


Don't Write Me Off (Just Yet)

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Background Erica/Boyd, Background Relationships, Bottom Derek, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Hinting at background Allison/Isaac, Inspired by a Movie, Lyricist Stiles, M/M, Manager Erica, Music and Lyrics AU, Musician Derek, Romantic Comedy, Singer Derek, Top Stiles Stilinski, Writer Stiles, background Scott/Kira, mention of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6798199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former pop sensation Derek Hale isn't doing so well ever since his band 'Pack' split up. His manager Erica does what she can to get him mostly nostalgic gigs, reliving the 'Pack' glory days, but his solo career isn't taking off as well as he'd hoped. What Derek really needs is a good lyricist to go with the music he writes. Enter Stiles Stilinski, doing his friend's mom a favor by watering Derek's plants for a few days. Turns out Derek and Stiles are compatible in more ways than one. And Stiles can write! But does he want to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Write Me Off (Just Yet)

**Author's Note:**

> * This is a human AU based on the movie "Music and Lyrics".  
> * ["Movie Poster" fanart made by the incredibly talented and hard-working Geeky-Sova!](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/144094427546/dont-write-me-off-just-yet-a-sterek-human-au) Thank you so much. <3  
> * Many thanks to Space and Snidegrrl for the beta, and to Angie for the cheerleading! You are all amazing! <3

 “Yeah, I think I’m gonna pass,” Derek says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Erica.

“I admit that it’s not ideal,” Erica concedes, “But it would get you out there again?”

“Not ideal?” Derek scoffs, “Look, I know what this show is all about, alright? What’s gonna happen is that I’m gonna be dragged through the mud as a former ‘Pack’-member _has-been_ , while they’ll be boasting about how well Jackson’s new movie is doing or how his new album is guaranteed to go platinum.”

“Well, I mean, opening weekend did sell - ” Erica starts, not even sounding the least bit remorseful.

“ _Erica!_ ” Derek cuts her off, “I don’t want to hear it, alright?” He sighs as he lets himself plop down onto the couch. “It’s bad enough that _if_ people even remember my name, it’s always in comparison to Jackson. But most of the time it’s just ‘that dude that was in ‘Pack’ with Jackson, whatshisname’, never mind the fact that I wrote the music to all of our songs, and - ”

“I know, I know!” Erica sighs dramatically, “And Jackson’s a cheating douchebag that stole your music. I’ve heard it all before, Derek. I was _there_ even, remember? I have been your manager for quite a few years now.”

Derek huffs slightly. He knows that Erica’s heard it all before, a million times even.

“But hey, sometimes you’re referred to as the hot stoic piece of ass behind the piano or the guitar,” Erica beams, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, thanks,” Derek says, but he really can’t be mad at her. She’s always stood by him, did everything she could to promote him.

“So that’s a no on the tv show, then,” Erica says, and doesn’t even wait for Derek to decline again until she goes on, “But that’s fine, we don’t need them anyway!”

Derek silently wonders why Erica even wanted him to do it then, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Because we’ve got another trick up our sleeve!” she says, excitedly, “And her name is Allison!”

“Allison?” Derek frowns.

“Oh my God, Derek, please tell me you’ve heard of Allison before?” Erica asks exasperated, “She’s only one of the best selling artists at the moment! She’s bigger than Nicki and Gaga put together! And guess who she is a major fan of?”

“Jackson?” Derek says, because everything is always about Jackson, isn’t it?

“You!” Erica says, pointing her finger in his face. “Okay, probably Jackson a little bit too, because she was a huge 'Pack'fan, but whatever, she wants to meet _you_ , Derek.”

Before Derek can even respond, the intercom buzzer sounds out through the apartment.

“Hang on,” Derek mutters at Erica, making his way to the intercom to press the button. “Yeah?”

“Derek, I have a Stiles here for you,” Danny, the building’s doorman tells him.

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Derek frowns, confused.

“He’s here to do your plants,” Danny says.

“Melissa does my plants,” Derek tells him.

“He says he can be in and out in five minutes, and that this is really the best time for him,” Danny says, clearly repeating what this Stiles character is telling him, “And that you won’t even notice he’s there.”

“Alright, alright,” Derek says, his mind too preoccupied by Allison to argue with this new plant guy, “Send him up then.” He releases the intercom button and turns to Erica, “So, explain this to me again. Allison Argent, ‘cause that’s the Allison we’re talking about, right?” Erica nods. “Allison Argent wants to meet me?”

“Why do you have a plant guy?” Erica asks, à propos of nothing.

“I have a plant lady,” Derek shakes his head. And he’s really wondering where the hell Melissa went to.

“Why do you even have plants?” Erica frowns, looking around the apartment, like she’s never noticed the array of plants before.

“Why do you think?” Derek asks, shrugging, “Because my sisters said it would be a good idea.” That is too often the case in Derek’s life, if he’s completely honest. “I’m just lucky they didn’t push the pet idea. They’re so pre-occupied with the fact that I live here alone, they’re desperate to make me get _anything_ living in the apartment. Plants were a compromise that I just couldn’t escape. But I don’t want to have to actually deal with them myself.”

“You do realize that they live halfway across the country, right?” Erica asks, stepping into Derek’s open kitchen to nose into the fridge like she actually owns the place. “I mean, it’s not like they could actually see if you had plants in this place or not.”

“Hah,” Derek says while Erica grabs god-knows-what from the fridge before slamming it shut too hard for his taste, “If you don’t think they Facetime me and check exactly who or what is in the background, you clearly haven’t met my sisters yet.”

“I have, and I love them,” Erica beams around a mouthful of… chocolate? “They should move over here.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Derek says, even though he does miss Laura and Cora sometimes. “They manage to rule my life even from a distance. I don’t even wanna know what they’d do if they lived here.” He’s exaggerating, really, and he knows it. Laura and Cora just suggested the plant thing as a way to liven up the place, and he kind of agreed. He just seems to have this slight habit of killing every plant he’s ever taken care of, hence the plant lady.

“I thought I ruled your life?” Erica says, cocky.

“Don’t remind me,” Derek mutters, just as there’s a knock on the door. He opens it to find a spry young man in the hallway, all fluffy hair and moles scattered across his rather handsome face.

“Hi, I’m Stiles Stilinski,” he says, chipper.

“Hi. Derek Hale,” Derek replies, still somewhat confused by Stiles’ presence.

“Melissa didn’t tell you about me, did she?” Stiles asks, tilting his head.

“Not really, no,” Derek says, trying to think back to the last time he saw Melissa and wondering if maybe he was too wrapped up in himself to listen to what Melissa was telling him?

“Well, she had to go out of town for a few days. She’s visiting family, so she asked me to take over and come take care of your plants while she’s gone,” Stiles explains, “She’s my best friend’s Mom. She practically raised me, so I really can’t say no to her. Besides, I was happy to help.”

“Okay,” Derek says, “Yeah, no problem. Uhm… come on in.”

Derek takes a step back to wave Stiles in.

“I hope you have your own watering can?” Stiles asks as he takes off his shoulderbag and drops it on Derek’s piano that’s standing in the middle of the living room, “‘cause, I mean, Melissa said that everyone has their own watering can, but then I was at this other client of hers this morning, Mister Baczkowski, who didn’t have his own watering can!” As he’s talking, Stiles takes off his jacket and dumps it on the piano as well. “And he started acting all grumpy and rude because it was supposedly my fault that I couldn’t tend to his plants?” Stiles scoffs to himself as Derek picks up the bag and the jacket before they scratch up his beloved piano - he has a thing about his instruments, alright? “And _then_ he started yelling at me in Polish,” Stiles goes on, rambling, seemingly not noticing the move of his stuff. “And he probably thought I wouldn’t understand, but see, my Babcia was Polish and for a little old lady she had a surprising mouth on her! And it’s always the swear words that stick with you, isn’t it? And I would’ve yelled back at Mister Baczkowski if it weren’t for the fact that I figured Melissa would still be wanting his business when she gets back, so I didn’t want to get her fired because I happen to know how to curse in Polish!”

Derek blinks for a second when Stiles’ rant is finally over and looks at him like it’s his turn to talk now. Erica’s already smirking, like she always does when Derek feels bulldozed over by something or someone.

“Oh, uh…” Derek says, then turns slightly to indicate the kitchen, “The plant things are under the sink, and I do have my own watering can, yes.”

“Brilliant, thanks,” Stiles smiles, then turns towards Erica who’s grinning widely at him.

“I’m Erica,” she says, sticking out her hand at Stiles, “Derek’s manager.”

“Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles nods, then turns towards where Derek indicated earlier. “Kitchen?”

“Yep,” Derek says, and Stiles is off to go find the supplies he needs.

“So, Allison Argent, huh?” Erica turns back towards Derek now that Stiles is out of sight, “How awesome is that?”

“Wait a second,” Derek says, “Let's think about this.”

“What’s there to think about?” Erica says, incredulous, “She’s a huge star! Great publicity! Not to mention the money!”

“Okay, yeah, maybe,” Derek says, “If you put it like that.”

“Great,” Erica calls out, “Because Allison’s shooting a video clip tonight, and she wants to meet us there.”

“Tonight?” Derek asks, and then there’s a yelp from Stiles who’s standing by the cactus near the window, sucking on his finger as he puts down the watering can with his other hand.

“Are you alright?” Erica asks.

“Uhm, yeah,” Stiles says, holding up his finger with a pained look on his face, “Do you maybe have a band-aid? Some antibiotic cream?”

Derek frowns, skeptical, “Uhm, no?”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles says, still occasionally sucking his pricked finger into his mouth as he looks around nervously, “Then I’m gonna go home because this could get infected and I really don’t wanna risk that. I mean, you can never be too careful!” He’s walking around the living room, scrambling to get his jacket and his bag. “So I’ll come back another time and finish this.” He’s already opening the door as Derek picks up the watering can, mystified. “You should really have a first aid kit! It’s only common sense. What if something happens?” Stiles says, accusingly, “I gotta get this looked at. But I’ll be back, okay? I’m not sure when yet, but I’ll make the time to make sure your plants won’t die, alright? Bye!” And then the door slams shut and Derek wonders what the hell just happened.

Derek and Erica turn towards each other, befuddled.

“That was weird, right?” Derek asks, because he knows that he does not always have the best social skills, but he can still recognize bizarre behavior when he sees it.

“Don’t give him a key,” Erica says flatly, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Derek mutters, and then Erica starts up about Allison again and Derek forgets all about Stiles, the plant guy.  

 

***

 

Derek’s been in plenty of studios before, so he’s not awestruck when he and Erica get to watch Allison record her latest clip. He recorded a number of video clips with Jackson, for _'_ Pack _'_ , and he never tremendously enjoyed the experience, but he knows that it is part of the job.

He can tell that Allison is a professional though. She doesn’t mess up many takes, seems to have her own ideas but always manages to reach an agreement with the director. The song isn’t entirely Derek’s style, it’s too dance-y and upbeat for his taste, and the dancing Allison’s doing is maybe a bit too sexual for his liking, but he can’t deny that Allison’s fans will love this clip. And that Allison is a very talented singer and performer.

“Nice,” Erica whispers at Derek as they observe Allison twisting her body in an outfit that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, “Should’ve brought Boyd for this one.”

“He still only would’ve had eyes for you,” Derek whispers back, which elicits a hushed ‘awwwww’ from Erica.

“Why Derek, who knew you were such a romantic?” Erica mutters, beaming.

“I just mean that you two are sickeningly co-dependent,” Derek shrugs, because he likes busting Erica’s chops.

“Aaand romance goes out the door,” Erica rolls her eyes as the music dies down and the director yells cut. There’s some applause rising up from the crew.

“Hello,” a sophisticated looking woman comes up to them, “I’m Lydia Martin, I’m Allison’s manager.”

She shakes their hands before ushering them to follow her. “Allison’s excited to meet you, she’s just this way.”

They follow Lydia into Allison’s dressing room, past a curly haired man guarding the door, to where Allison’s wrapped a robe around herself to cover up her performance outfit.  

“Allison, Derek Hale and his manager, Erica Reyes, are here to meet you!” Lydia announces, and Allison greets them immediately with a big smile.

“Derek! It is so lovely to meet you!” Allison says as she pulls him into an awkward hug. Derek isn’t big on physical contact with people he’s never met, but Allison is clearly excited to meet him. “Your song ‘ _Howl at the Night'_ got me through a very rough time as a teenager, when my mother passed away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Derek says, sincere.

“But that is exactly why I wanted to meet you!” Allison says, opening up to him, “Because I want my fans to experience the same level of comfort from my music as I did from yours!”

“That’s really nice of you to say,” Derek says. He didn’t expect her to share this kind of thing with him. Maybe Derek had a few preconceptions about Allison, the big superstar, before meeting her. But he realizes he may have judged too soon.

“And that’s why I want you to write me a new song,” Allison goes on, determined, “And I’ve already thought of a title for it, ‘ _A Way Back Into Love_ ’. It’s from this novel I read, and it just stuck with me. So I’m really adamant about it being this title. And it has to be a duet, so that we can perform it together at my concert in Madison Square Garden.”

“I’m sure Derek can make that work,” Erica says, enthusiastically, “When is the concert exactly?”

“In two weeks,” Allison tells them.

“ _Two_ weeks?” Derek makes a face as he turns to Erica.

“And we want to put the new song on Allison’s new CD as well,” Lydia interjects matter-of-factly, “Which is almost finished, so we’ll need it by Friday.”

“Friday?” Derek asks, flabbergasted, “ _This_ Friday?”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t feel any pressure,” Lydia says sweetly, “We’ve already got seven other artists working on ‘ _A Way Back Into Love’_ as well, so if you blow it, we’ve got it covered.”

“How reassuring,” Derek says, feeling distinctly overwhelmed by the whole thing.

“Derek,” Allison says, smiling encouragingly, “Don’t be worried. If it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be. It’s destiny.”

Derek attempts to smile back.

“Or not,” Lydia says, shrugging as she starts ushering Allison away from the dressing room, leaving a bewildered Derek and Erica.

 

***

 

“What the hell are they thinking?” Derek asks Erica as they’re walking out of the building, “I can’t write an entire song in just a few days! It’s crazy!”

“Listen, Derek,” Erica says, and she’s got her serious face on, “I gotta be honest with you, we need this.”

“No, we don’t, we have some gigs lined up, it’ll be fine,” Derek shrugs.

“No, we don’t,” Erica says, gravely, “I didn’t tell you this before, but…”

“What?” Derek frowns at her, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“We’ve had some cancellations,” Erica admits, “The office shindig, the bachelor party…”

“What?” Derek asks, disappointed, and slightly annoyed at Erica that he’s only hearing about this now, “What about the state fair?”

“That’s still on but they cut down your songs to three,” Erica says with a sigh.

“What the fuck?” Derek exclaims, running his hand through his hair, “Why on earth didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought maybe we’d get some new stuff!” Erica calls out, “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Derek huffs. He hates being left in the dark, _hates_ it!

“That’s why we need this Allison thing, Derek,” Erica says, earnestly, “You can make it work, I have faith in you. We need this to refresh your image, to get you out there again! All you need is one hit for people to disassociate you with 'Pack' and Jackson, and you’re off again! You’ve got the talent, you’ve got the looks! People just gotta rediscover you!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Derek sighs.

“Just one song,” Erica goes on, “And Allison is perfect for this. She can put you back on the map. She’s the ‘it’ thing of the moment. Just what you need.”

“You know I haven’t written in five years, Erica,” Derek says, the insecurity bubbling up in the pit of his stomach again, “The music, yeah, sure, I can probably manage that. But you know I can’t do lyrics! I need a lyricist, and it’s never worked with anyone but Jackson before.”

“I’ve got it all covered,” Erica says, “I know this guy, apparently he’s very good, he’s edgy. Maybe it’ll be a perfect match!”

“Fine…” Derek huffs, because he knows he doesn’t have much choice anyway. If he’s completely honest, he really does want this Allison thing to work out.

 

***

 

Derek’s fingers slide over the keys of the piano but he can’t really find the right melody.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Derek starts, glancing awkwardly at the guy sitting in the comfy chair across the room - Matt, the lyricist Erica hired.

“Listen, if you don’t like the lyrics, just tell me, alright,” Matt says, an annoyed edge to his voice. And Derek already knew from the first minute they started working together that they were most definitely not a perfect match.

“No, no, that’s not it,” Derek says, trying to be diplomatic, because he knows Erica will strangle him if he doesn’t at least give it a try. “The lyrics are good, they’re powerful.” Albeit somewhat incomprehensible, Derek would like to add.

“I can always try for something a bit more commercial,” Matt says, a look on his face like he’s feeling sick just thinking about it. “You know, something more pop-y, boybandish…”

Derek resists the urge to glower at him because if that wasn’t a stab at Derek’s musical past then he doesn’t know what is, but luckily he’s saved from responding by a knock on the door. He mutters something under his breath about thinly veiled insults, and he doesn’t even really care if Matt hears him or not when he strides towards the door and opens it.

“Hi!” Stiles is standing there, a timid smile on his face. “Danny told me to just come up.”

“Hey. You’re back,” Derek blurts out, then his eyes fall on the small bandage on Stiles’ slender finger. “And they managed to save the whole hand.”

“Hah, yeah,” Stiles says, his cheeks a little bit flushed, “I think I might have overreacted a bit.”

Derek smirks, but he doesn’t reply, and Stiles pushes past him into the apartment.

“I tend to do that sometimes,” Stiles goes on as he hauls his shoulderbag over his shoulder and drops it on the piano again, then does the same with his jacket. “But I always think of worst case scenarios. I really can’t help it.”

“That happens,” Derek says, because he’s not unfamiliar with that concept. He grabs the jacket and bag off the piano quickly and puts them on the side of the couch.

“Apparently I get it from my dad. Like father, like son,” Stiles says, shooting Derek a warm smile.

“Uhm, excuse me?” Matt interrupts, displeased, from where he’s sitting in his chair.

“Oh, hi,” Stiles says, guarding his smile, “I didn’t see you there. I’m Stiles, I’m here for the plants.”

“Fascinating,” Matt says, deadpan.

“Stiles, this is Matt Daehler, he’s a lyricist,” Derek says as he goes to sit back down behind his piano, “We’re trying to work on a song together.”

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Stiles says with enthusiasm, “Well, I’ll try not to get in your way then. Not any more than I already have, anyway.”

Derek can’t help but smile. He’d rather spend some more time listening to Stiles babble than get back to this song with Matt, if he’s completely honest.

“So don’t tell me,” Stiles continues, ruffling his hand through his brown hair, “Plant stuff’s in the kitchen…” And he’s off into the kitchen with a bounce in his step.

“Alright,” Derek blinks, scratching his stubble. He’s trying to focus back on the task at hand, while Matt is still just sitting there, looking increasingly annoyed. He stares at the piece of paper with Matt’s lyrics in front of him and starts to sing as he tries out a slow melody on the piano, “ _Give it up, I’m a bad hot witch. I look real good but I’m a nasty bitch._ ” These lyrics are so not Derek and he knows it. And he knows that’s why everything he’s doing on the piano just isn’t right either. He doesn’t even think they’d be a good fit for Allison either. “ _I can scream and claw, and curdle your blood…_ ” Derek goes on, even though he almost trips over ‘curdle your blood’. What kind of lyrics are those? They’re impossible to sing fluently, and they just give a disgusting image, which is not what you want from a love duet. “ _But you’ll die on your way back into love…_ ” Not exactly the most romantic sentiment in the words, but if Derek considers the source…

“No, no, no,” Matt says, shaking his head as he gets up off the comfy chair to come stand next to Derek at the piano, a little too close for comfort.

“Yeah, no, that’s not it,” Derek says, racking his brain over this stupid tune as Stiles marches back into the room with his watering can in hand before stretching out as he stands on his tiptoes to reach the plant that is resting on top of the bookcase. His t-shirt rides up, revealing the nice curve of his lower back dipping into a pair of tight jeans. Derek thinks he can spy some moles there too.

“Nice ass,” Matt mutters at Derek as he blatantly stares at Stiles, nudging him with his elbow. Stiles seems blissfully unaware, but nevertheless the annoyance builds up in Derek’s chest at the comment.

“Let’s just…” Derek says curtly, and he starts tapping on the piano again, a different version this time. “ _Give it up, I’m a bad hot witch. I look real good -_ ”

“Oh come on,” Matt interrupts, rolling his eyes, “You are completely missing the point.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering why he hasn’t thrown this guy out already.

“Now the first line, ‘Give it up, I’m a bad hot witch’ is okay,” Matt spells it out for him, like Derek’s a child or something, “But then it should be - ”

“ _But with some magic, I just might switch…_ ” there’s a quiet voice coming from over by the window, Stiles singing softly, mostly to himself as he continues to water the plants. He continues humming, seemingly unaware that both Derek and Matt are now staring at him.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Derek asks, a flicker of hope running through him.

“I, uhm… I don’t remember?” Stiles says, slowly turning towards them like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“‘But with some magic, I just might switch’,” Derek repeats, wondrously. “That’s actually really good.”

“That’s not what I wrote though,” Matt says, sternly.

“I know,” Derek says, working hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice, “But it’s good stuff, regardless of who wrote it.”

“Right,” Matt sighs, exasperated, “Listen, if you don’t want anything more sophisticated than rhymes like ‘moon’ and ‘June’ then by all means, ask  _plant boy_ to write your lyrics for you!”

Stiles pulls a disgruntled face at the comment as he starts spraying the leaves of the plants in front of him with his water sprayer.

“Go on. Finish it then,” Matt challenges Stiles, strung out, “What comes after ‘I just might switch’?”

“Look, dude,” Stiles says, his voice relaxed but he’s clutching the water sprayer to his chest tightly, “I’m just here for the plants.”

“And yet two seconds ago you were singing your own lyrics!” Matt calls out, getting increasingly irritated. Not to mention irrita _ting_.  

“ _Hey!_ Matt!” Derek interjects, standing up from behind his piano.

But Stiles appears to rise to the challenge as he starts, “‘Let’s fly my broom to the stars above, and… _charm_ our way back into love’!”

“Oh God,” Matt scoffs, outraged, “And the next line is you belting out your _feelings_ , or something?” He turns towards the door. “I don’t need this kind of crap. I’m outta here!” and slams it shut behind him.

Derek feels absolutely no impulse to go after him.

“ _Oh my God_ , I’m so sorry,” Stiles says, suddenly horrified, almost dropping his watering can. “What did I do? I was just supposed to mind my own business and I drove your partner away!” He’s flailing his arms around in a panic, water splashing on the floor. “I have no filter! What the hell is wrong with me?”

“He was _not_ my partner.” Derek says clearly, taking a few steps closer to Stiles, “Don’t worry about it. Good riddance, really. I couldn’t stand the guy, and he was seriously getting on my nerves. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” He tries to reassure Stiles. “Hey listen, have you ever done any writing?”

“Writing?” Stiles says, as if Derek is asking something scandalous of him, “Well, I mean, who hasn’t done the occasional writing, am I right?” He hurries back over to the kitchen, even though there’s still plenty of water left in his can. “Though maybe not really, ‘cause adult illiteracy really is a problem in this country and it should be addressed. But so, yeah, I _can_ write, but I’m not a writer, you know? I’ve done a couple of slogans for the pet supply store I help my friend Scott run.”

“Did you ever hear of the band 'Pack'?” Derek asks, squinting his face.

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles says, all but laughing to himself, his nose crinkling up in kind of a cute way. “Everyone knows them. Scott used to _love_ them! They had those ridiculous matching outfits and - ” Stiles stops in his tracks, looking at Derek as the realization dawns on him, “Oh my God, you’re one of them!”

“The matching outfits were pretty much a stipulation of the record company, to be fair,” Derek justifies, shrugging.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Stiles says, panicked, “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind,” Derek shakes his head, “I just wanted to talk to you about maybe writing some lyrics?” He cringes at how much he sounds like a door-to-door salesman or something, but he doesn’t have much time, especially now that Matt left.

“But I don’t write lyrics,” Stiles says hastily, and he’s already grabbing all of his stuff again and Derek considers maybe blocking the door so he can’t make his escape.

“We could just brainstorm a bit,” Derek tries instead, “I really liked what you had to say earlier, we can just give it a try!”

“No, really, that’s just not what I do,” Stiles says apologetic, his hand already on the doorknob. “I can’t. I’m not… I can’t. Besides, I gotta go, I promised Scott and Kira I’d babysit the girls tonight. They were gonna go and have a nice evening out, and oh my God, if I tell Scott I met you he’s definitely gonna want to come to one of your shows or something - ”

“That’s fine,” Derek says, doing his best not to be deterred by Stiles’ absolute refusal, “I can put you on the guest list for this high school reunion gig I have tonight…”

“I really have to go now,” Stiles says, hurried as he’s already one foot out the door.

“Stiles…” Derek tries again, but then the door shuts and Derek throws his head back and lets out a deep breath before sprinting after him and catching up with him by the elevator.

“Stiles!” Derek calls out, “Listen, do you know who Allison Argent is?”

“Yeah, of course,” Stiles says, like it’s unthinkable that someone wouldn’t know who she is, “Scott’s little girls love her!”

“Well that’s who I’m supposed to be writing a song for,” Derek says, all but pleading, “Only I can’t do it without someone helping me with the lyrics. So please, if you change your mind…”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles shakes his head, a pained look on his face.

“Okay,” Derek sighs, because he really doesn’t want to get down on his knees and beg. He knows that he should respect Stiles’ no. “But I’ll still put you on the list for the gig tonight. Just in case your friend wants to come. Open invitation. It’s at nine, at the Hilton.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll…” the elevator door pings before it opens. “I don’t know yet,” Stiles says as he steps in, completely lost his bearings. “I’ll see.”

And then he’s off.

 

***

 

Derek is standing on the stage, microphone in his hand, singing one of his old songs. He really prefers to sit behind a piano, or play the guitar himself, but Erica’s convinced him that people want to see him dance a bit. The crowd is twenty-something women standing in front of the stage, yelping and screaming. The men are mostly sitting down at the tables in the back. They probably weren’t the biggest 'Pack' fans when they were in high school, Derek is used to it.

His fans are mostly twenty-somethings, girls that were teenagers when ‘Pack’ was at its peak. Jackson and himself were barely 18 when they started, and then they had a couple of good years. Until Jackson went on to do even greater things, and Derek kinda got… forgotten about.

He’s in the middle of his current song when he sees Stiles and someone else walk into the ballroom. The guy, presumably Stiles’ friend, Scott, looks wide-eyed and beaming at the stage before looking back at Stiles and grabbing his shoulder as he says something excitedly. Stiles nods, remarkably less star-struck, which is understandable.

Derek just keeps singing as Scott makes his way closer towards the stage, bouncing to the rhythm of the song. He’s mouthing along the lyrics. Stiles stays more towards the back, but he’s smiling as he’s watching Derek on stage.

Then he starts up a new song, a popular one that always goes over well with the crowd, and then one of the women right in front of him starts scrambling onto the stage, one hand up and already reaching out to him. Derek keeps singing, but he shoots a look at Erica, who’s just behind the scenes, watching him. The lady manages to make it all the way up to the stage, screaming at Derek excitedly and he tries to take a step back but it’s too late, she’s already got her arms around him. Then Boyd appears on the stage and easily plucks the woman off of Derek and accompanies - read : carries - the overly excited fan off the stage.

When Derek looks back out on the crowd, he catches Stiles hiding a grin behind his hand as their eyes lock.

When the gig is over, after a few autographs and selfies with fans, Derek sees Stiles waving awkwardly at him.

“Hi!” Derek says, dragging Erica and Boyd over to where Stiles and his friend are standing. “I’m so glad you came.” He turns towards Erica and Boyd. “Erica, you remember Stiles, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Erica says, with a sudden diabolical smile on her face. “Hi.”

“I really wanted to apologize for earlier,” Stiles starts before Derek can even introduce Boyd as well, but then his friend, Scott, elbows him in the ribs. Stiles rolls his eyes and waves his hands in Scott’s general direction. “This is Scott McCall, my best friend. He’s a huge fan.”

“Hey Scott, nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Scott says, a wide smile on his face, “You were awesome just now! So great. I was wondering, could I maybe ask you for an autograph?” He sticks out an old CD at Derek.

“Of course,” Derek says politely, taking the CD case and signing it.

“And maybe a picture with you?” Scott asks, absolutely beaming as he already scoots next to Derek and sticks out his phone at Stiles.

“And I wanted to thank you as well,” Stiles says as he takes Scott’s phone and flicks his thumb over the screen, “For your offer.”

Scott is now pressed up against him as Erica asks, “What offer?”

“Well,” Derek says, “While creepy Matt with the anger management issues was in my apartment - thanks for hooking me up with him - by the way…”

“You’re impossible,” Erica sighs dramatically.

“Stiles was coming up with some great lyrics,” Derek goes on.

“I thought you did plants?” Erica frowns at Stiles.

“Dude, I’m holding a pose here,” Scott interjects at Stiles.

“The thing is,” Derek says at Stiles, only feeling a tiny bit guilty for leaving Scott hanging, “I need a song by Friday, and it’s incredibly hard to find a decent lyricist that doesn’t make me want to claw out my brain.”

“Why don’t you just write the lyrics yourself then?” Stiles asks, frowning, still holding Scott’s phone but not actually taking a picture.

Erica barks out a laugh. “That’s really not his strong suit,” she says.

“Thanks,” Derek gives her a look, before turning back to Stiles, “She’s right though. I’m really bad at it. I once rhymed ‘you and me’ with ‘autopsy’...” He still cringes at the memory.

“Dude, you could totally do something with that,” Stiles says, keen.

“Stiles, can you _please_ just take the picture?” Scott whines, still pressed up against Derek’s shoulder.

“Like…” Stiles goes on, as if he doesn’t hear Scott, “‘You and me is like doing a love autopsy…’”

“See!” Derek says enthusiastically at Erica, “That’s good!” Erica even looks on approvingly.

“It is?” Stiles asks, clearly unsure of himself.

“Yes!” Derek says, “Go on! What would come next?”

“Uhm…” Stiles says, looking uncertain, “I have no idea?”

“Dude, someone could’ve painted us in this time,” Scott sighs.

“I’ll take it,” Boyd says, taking pity on Scott and taking the phone from a lost-in-thought Stiles.

“‘They could operate all day long, and never figure out what went wrong…’,” Stiles mutters.

“That’s quite perfect,” Erica says as Boyd finally snaps the picture.

“Told you,” Derek says, smiling.

“Okay, we have to go now,” Stiles says, tugging on Scott’s sleeve.

“No, but wait,” Derek tries as he’s already dragging his friend away from them.

“Nice to meet you!” Scott calls back behind him before they disappear into the hallway.

“He keeps doing that,” Derek sighs at Erica and Boyd.

 

***

 

“I can get you other lyricists,” Erica tells him over a bottle of beer, over at Boyd and Erica’s, “I could check if Finstock is available.”

“Finstock’s a lunatic,” Derek immediately counters, “He tries to shoehorn sports references into every song he writes, and he’s completely undependable.”

“You’re being way too difficult,” Erica sighs, “It’s not like we have a whole lot of choice here. What about Kate?”

Derek flinches at the thought. “I’d rather have Finstock.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Erica chides.

“Not to interfere with your work here,” Boyd says carefully, “But really, if Derek doesn’t feel comfortable with the person writing the lyrics, I doubt any hit will come of it.”

“Thank you!” Derek calls out, glad that he’s got Boyd to help talk some sense into Erica.

“Then I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Erica says, and the fact that she’s not arguing with Boyd means that she realizes he’s right. “Allison wants the song by Friday.”

“I need Stiles,” Derek concedes, because it really is the only way Derek can see this working.

“What is it with you and this guy anyway?” Erica asks, suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Derek says, maybe a little bit too quickly, “It’s just…” He shrugs. “He doesn’t make me want to poke my eyes out, like Matt did. And he comes out with refreshing stuff. Lyrics that work for me.”

“You’d think he’d jump on the chance to write a hit song,” Boyd muses, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Maybe there’s still a way to convince him?” Erica asks, “It’s not every day we find someone you’re actually willing to work with.”

“I know that he’s said no, and that I should leave him be, but…” Derek shakes his head. Something inside of him tells him that Stiles would get a kick out of writing a hit number. And Derek isn’t too ashamed to admit that this is probably his only shot to write this for Allison.

“He’d get paid royally,” Erica says.

“I don’t think that’s what it’s about for him,” Derek says, shaking his head. Then he sighs, and he knows that he’s just looking for someone to explain away his actions when he asks, “Would it be so bad if I went to his work and tried to convince him one last time?”

“Maybe you can use the words from the restraining order as lyrics…” Boyd mutters jokingly, and gets Erica’s elbow in the ribs for good measure.

 

***

 

It’s not like Derek to be so persistent, and he really feels quite bad about it, but he also knows that he needs a song by Friday and Stiles is his only hope. Stiles is good and he can help him, and Derek really doesn’t understand why he won’t at least _try_. It’s clear that he’s got the talent for it, so that’s why Derek is currently standing in the pet supply store that Stiles works at, staring at the offer on birdseed while he waits for one of the employees to go find Stiles. That, and Erica being his devil’s advocate and encouraging him.

“Hi,” Derek says as Stiles appears in the aisle, and he suddenly feels like the worst kind of stalker.

Maybe Boyd was right about his restraining order joke.

“Hi,” Stiles says, and he doesn’t appear upset to see Derek, luckily. It’s the only reason why Derek doesn’t turn around and walk out, uttering apologies.

“I’m really sorry to bother you here at work,” Derek says, honestly, “I don’t usually do this. But I am desperate, so I figured I had to at least try once more.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, regretful, “I wish I could help, but I’m really not a writer.”

“Except that you are,” Derek says, “You’ve published short stories and poems before, in magazines.” Stiles all but gasps at the revelation. “I know, I’m sorry but I googled you,” Derek says, and yeah, he’s definitely getting his stalker badge for this. “But you were so good!”

“Look, I’m flattered,” Stiles says, “I truly am. But that doesn’t mean that I can write songs.”

“But you already did!” Derek says, full of conviction. “Five minutes of your time, that’s all I ask. If you still say no, I promise I won’t bother you again. No more googling or stalking.”

Stiles snorts, “You’re not stalking.”

“Is that a yes on the five minutes then?” Derek asks, hopeful.

“Yeah, alright…” Stiles smiles, he seems kind of amused even, much to Derek’s huge relief.

He takes Stiles to the musical instrument store down the street, where the owner Marin greets them amicably. Derek’s been here a thousand times before, he usually buys all of his instruments here.

“Hello Marin,” Derek says politely, “Could I just try the new Mason and Hamlin for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Marin says, waving towards the piano that’s by the window, “Go right ahead.”

“Thanks,” Derek says, leading Stiles towards the piano. He sits down behind it as Stiles stares at him full of anticipation. “You might recognize this, alright?” And then he lets his fingers flow over the keys as he starts up a slow tune and sings melodically, “ _Figuring out you and me is like doing a love autopsy…_ ” Stiles’ mouth falls open before it turns into a huge smile, and Derek goes on. “ _They could operate all day long and never figure out what went wrong…_ ” Stiles brings his hands up to his mouth to cover his smile. “ _Lo-ove autopsy_ ,” Derek continues singing, his fingers working the piano fast. “ _Lo-ove autopsy…_ ” Stiles is sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as Derek trails off, “ _What went wrong…_ ”

He puts his hands in his lap as he looks at Stiles, expectantly. This is the moment of truth.

“That was all kinds of awesome, really,” Stiles breathes out in a rush, and it warms Derek’s heart. “But I’ve never written a song.”

“I know,” Derek says, solemnly, “And if I’m wrong then I’m wrong, but I just don’t think that I am. I think that you have something in you, even if you don’t know it yourself, but I think that you are a born lyricist.”

Stiles just stares at him for a moment, full of wonder. And it feels like ages before he blinks and finally nods.

“Alright,” he says, never taking his eyes off Derek. “I’ll give it a try.”

 

***

 

“So we need this song by Friday,” Derek says as they step back into his apartment, “Because Allison wants to put it on her new CD, so we’ve got a deadline.”

Stiles nods, taking his shoulderbag off, and Derek catches it before it lands on his piano this time.

“Ideally, I’d like to continue with the autopsy song,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles’ jacket as well, “But I think it might be a bit hard to go back from that to the title that Allison wants, which is ‘ _A_ _Way Back Into Love_ ’...”

“Okay,” Stiles says, taking a notepad and a pen. “And we can’t continue with the lyrics that creepy Matt started - ”

“Because that would be plagiarism, so yeah, no, that’s out too,” Derek says, sitting down behind his piano. “So we basically need something that is brand new.”

“And that would fit Allison,” Stiles says, standing by the other side of the piano.

“Yep,” Derek nods.

“And it has be called ‘ _A_ _Way Back Into Love_ ’,” Stiles sums up, “But it has to fit you as well, ‘cause you have to sing it with her.”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah,” Derek says, so relieved that Stiles is on board with this now.

“So what would you sing about?” Stiles asks, tilting his head.

Derek presses his lips together and… comes up with nothing.

“Inspiring,” Stiles whispers as he goes to sit down in the comfy chair, notepad in his lap.

He’s still sitting there, several hours later, and they still have nothing to show for it.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, you know,” Derek tries. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Stiles, but it seems like a little bit of encouragement is needed. “Just say the first thing that comes to mind. They’re just lyrics.”

“Just lyrics?” Stiles frowns at him.

“Okay, lyrics are important, yes,” Derek concedes, “But it’s just not as important as… well, the melody.”

Stiles scoffs, shaking his head in disagreement. “You really don’t get it though,” Stiles says, putting the pad down next to him as he gets up and walks towards Derek.

Derek wants to argue that he’s the one that’s been writing music for a while now, but then Stiles starts, “A melody’s like seeing someone for the first time, the physical attraction…” He leans over the piano, looking Derek straight in the eye. “Sex.” Derek nods minutely, swallowing the sudden excess of saliva away. “Then, as you get the know the person…” Stiles goes on, his hands doing half the talking for him, “That’s the lyrics. Their story, who they are deep down, you know? Underneath.” He sighs contently. “And it’s the combination of the two that makes it magic,” Stiles concludes.

Derek nods again, mesmerized by Stiles’ words. And he can’t really argue with that.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Stiles says suddenly, pushing himself off the piano.

“Now?” Derek asks, looking outside at the darkness that has fallen over the city.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says, already reaching for his jacket, “It’ll clear our heads. When you hit a wall, you need a change of scenery. You’ll see things and hear things, things that can spark something!”

And before Derek knows it, they’re outside, walking past restaurants and bars.

“This is good, you’ll see,” Stiles says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Let’s just talk a bit. Tell me about ‘Pack’. Like, what happened there, why did you guys break up? Scott said that you and Jackson were real good friends back then.”

“We were…” Derek says, ducking his head a bit, “But then Jackson got a new manager, who convinced him that he was the true star, you know? That he was the success behind the band and I was holding him back, and before I knew it Jackson left and took with him the last four songs that we wrote together.” It still stings, even after all these years. “He claimed those songs as his own, put them on his first solo album, which sold around eight million records.”

“Wow,” Stiles says, sympathetically, “How do you even deal with that?”

“Lots of brooding,” Derek admits, “Locking myself into my apartment and throwing things around.”

“Nice,” Stiles says with a slice of humor in his voice, shooting Derek a smile.

“And then…” Derek says as he stops in front of the record store they’re passing by, and ushers Stiles in. “By eventually making my own solo album.”

He leads Stiles towards the spot he knows his own CD is featured.

“This copy has been in the racks for three years,” Derek says as he hands Stiles his CD.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles says, incredulous.

“I made a little mark in the back,” Derek admits, his cheeks flushing a bit as he flips over the CD and shows Stiles the little scratch. “I uh… I check from time to time.”

“Aha, a little bit vain, are we?” Stiles quips, throwing Derek a wink.

“I guess,” Derek says somewhat embarrassed.

“You should be though,” Stiles says, holding up the CD, “This is quite the achievement!”

“Except that it sold only about fifty thousand copies, and that it got incredibly crippling reviews pretty much everywhere,” Derek says, trying for breezily, but he knows the hurt must shine through a little bit. “They were right though,” Derek says, grabbing the CD out of Stiles’ hands and dropping it back into the rack. “It didn’t deserve better. So I gave up on trying to write, lost a lot of money, but luckily Erica stuck by me.”

“That’s nice,” Stiles says as they slowly make their way out of the record store. “So how did you end up doing the gigs you do now?”

“That’s pretty much all Erica,” Derek says, “She started booking me smaller venues, convinced me to drop the new material and stick with the ‘Pack’ songs. People still remember those, and loved it, so it’s kind of like… nostalgia gigs. Revival, whatever you wanna call it. It’s not entirely what I would like to do, but it’s better than nothing, I guess. At least I’m still singing, performing.”

“I really appreciate you opening up like this,” Stiles smiles gently. “I mean, I know what it’s like to live with a shadow over your head.” He looks like he’s about to say something more, but no words come out as he opens his mouth.

“What?” Derek asks, staring at the glazed over look in Stiles’ eyes.

“I got it,” Stiles says, grabbing Derek by the wrist as he tugs him out of the store.

 

***

 

“ _I’ve been living with a shadow overhead,_ ” Derek sings Stiles’ suggestion as he tries out some tunes on the piano. “That’s a nice melody, right?”

“It is,” Stiles beams, “It’s good.”

“Though, of course, you don’t even like melody,” Derek jokes softly.

“That is so not what I said,” Stiles shakes his head amused.

Derek just grins at him. “Alright, now you again. What’s next?”

“Breakfast,” Stiles smiles, and it’s only when Derek looks out the window that he realizes the sun has come up.

“But we’re finally getting somewhere now,” Derek says as he starts playing the melody again. “ _I’ve been living with a shadow overhead…_ ” He looks expectantly at Stiles.

“ _There’ll be no more rhymes until I’m fed…_ ” Stiles sing-songs with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Come on, seriously,” Derek says, even though he can’t really bring himself to truly be annoyed, which is kind of odd for him. “‘I’ve been living with a shadow overhead…’”

“I could be inspired with just a piece of bread?” Stiles tries, the corners of his mouth curling up.

“Alright, fine,” Derek says as he gets up from behind his piano, and immediately Stiles jumps up as well, doing a little victory dance. “I should just give you the old bread that’s still laying around in the kitchen.” Derek mutters loud enough for Stiles to hear him.

“Slave driver,” Stiles accuses, but he hands Derek his jacket.

They’re walking towards this great little breakfast place that Derek knows as Stiles tries out new lyrics.

“‘I’ve been looking for someone to shed some light’?” he asks, tentatively.

“Shadow, light, that works,” Derek nods, and then Stiles suddenly stops in his tracks and spins around, muttering obscenities under his breath. “Are… are you alright?” Derek asks, frowning.

“Yeah, I just…” Stiles sighs, staring at the window of the bookstore right next to them.

There are books on display, obviously, and a rather big picture of what appears to be the author of the new book right next to it, Theo Raeken.

“I know him,” Stiles says, and the way he says it makes it kinda clear to Derek in which way he knows Theo Raeken. “He uh… kinda wrote a book about me.”

“What?” Derek asks, surprised, and then Stiles walks off, towards the breakfast place.

It’s when they’re seated and have ordered their food that Stiles goes on.

“I signed up for some writing courses,” Stiles shrugs, “I always wanted to try that out, to take some classes to actually know what I was doing, you know? And my teacher was Theo Raeken. He was brilliant, charming, ridiculously good-looking.”

It kind of answers the question that Derek has been wondering about Stiles.

“So yeah, obviously I had a huge crush on him,” Stiles admits, somewhat embarrassed. “And it appeared to be mutual, I mean… I don’t have to draw you a picture, right?”

“No,” Derek blurts out, because he’d rather not know the details of Stiles and some other guy that clearly ended up hurting him. Even though he’s not entirely sure why that is? “I get it.”

“So it kinda came out of left field when his fiancée showed up,” Stiles snorts humorlessly.

“What?” Derek frowns as the waiter slides their food in front of them.

“Yeah,” Stiles smiles, but he’s not meeting Derek’s eyes as he starts plucking at his muffin. “He never mentioned her, of course. I wouldn’t have… I mean, that’s just not me. I get way too attached. I’m not exactly good at sharing.”

“What an asshole…” Derek breathes out.

“Right?” Stiles says, “So then the fiancée catches us red-handed…”

“Ouch,” Derek says sympathetically.

“She slapped me in the face, right as could be expected,” Stiles says, around a mouthful, “Theo got it worse though, so I’m not really regretful about that one.” He smirks as he meets Derek’s eyes for a second. “And then that was it, I got the hell out of there, and I never saw him again. I dropped the class, and then a year later his new novel showed up.”

“About you?” Derek asks, carefully, his hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee.

“The tale of a mediocre student with big literary aspirations, who lures a brilliant writer into an affair just so he can take advantage of his knowledge and connections,” Stiles quotes, dramatically, “But when he tries to break it off, the student devotes himself to ruining the writer’s life!”

“Well then… that obviously wasn’t you!” Derek counters.

“Okay, so… he’s a lit major from California, 5’10”, dark brown hair, with all of my habits… you know, babbles along like there’s no tomorrow…” Stiles goes on, and Derek has to admit it sounds eerily familiar. “His father’s the Sheriff of his hometown - I guess I don’t have to tell you what my father does, right? Oh, and quite a few moles scattered over his face.”

“Wow,” Derek sighs.

“So, yeah…” Stiles trails off, “Ever since, I’ve been having problems picking up a pen and getting something down on paper. I keep seeing those words that he wrote, you know? ‘He was a brilliant mimic. He could ape Emily Dickinson, but stripped of someone else’s literary clothes, he was a vacant, empty imitation of a writer.’”

It obviously pains Stiles, the wounds still fresh on his face when he talks about it, and it gets to Derek more than he’d like to admit.

“You can’t listen to what some douchebag has to say about you,” Derek tries.

“He’s not a douchebag, he’s a National Book Award winner,” Stiles sighs.

“One does not exclude the other, you know,” Derek says, vehemently. “And besides, you should get the best revenge! Write a hit song!”

“To be fair, I don’t think a pop song is going to impress Theo Raeken,” Stiles makes a face.

“Oh no, of course not, pop is just for idiots, right?” Derek shakes his head, popping a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“That’s not what I said,” Stiles starts, dropping his fork on the table.

“I know, but you know what?” Derek asks, “You can tell your Theo Raeken that you can take all the novels in the world, and they’re not going to make you feel as good, as fast, as ‘ _I got sunshine, on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, I got the month of May_ ’... That is a game-changer!”

“Okay, so what if one of your idols came up to you and told you that you were a horrible songwriter, how would _you_ feel?” Stiles counters. “Like… Bob Dylan walks up to you and says, ‘You are an awful songwriter.’ How would you feel?”

“Not good, obviously,” Derek admits, “It would be terrible for a while. I’d be brooding, all depressed in my apartment.”

“See!” Stiles says, crying victory.

“But then, after all the brooding,” Derek goes on, because he knows he’s gotta spin this in a positive way, “I’d get a lyricist and I’d write a song about how depressed I was. And it would become number one, everyone would love it, and suddenly I’d be a lot less depressed than I’d be if I had just stayed cooped up in my apartment, indulging in self-loathing and pity.”

“You’re serious,” Stiles deadpans. “You are advocating for a positive attitude? The guy who locked himself into his apartment to brood and throw things after Jackson screwed him over?”

“Yeah, well…” Derek says, and he really has no way out of this. “That’s how I dealt with it. That doesn’t mean you should too. You’re way too talented for it. Besides, think about it, Theo needed to make you into the bad guy for his fiancée, didn’t he? That doesn’t make any of it true.”

“Maybe…” Stiles says, sipping from his cappuccino, but Derek can definitely detect a hint of a smile there.

 

***

 

“So your dad’s a Sheriff, huh?” Derek asks as they’re walking back towards his apartment building after breakfast.

“Yep, of Beacon Hills,” Stiles nods, sipping from the coffee that he took to go, “Small town back home in Cali. Aren’t you from around there too?”

“Yeah, not far,” Derek says. He’s heard of the town before. “I was a bit more up North. I think in high school I must’ve played basketball against Beacon Hills at some point or other.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles asks, perking up, “Basketball star, huh? Me and Scott, we played lacrosse. Well, I say I played, but really I just kept the bench warm.”

“Awww,” Derek says sympathetically.

“I was exquisite at that though. Very warm butt cheeks,” Stiles jokes, before going on, “Scott was co-captain of the team, but I only ever played a few games. I bet that never happened to you, huh? Bet you were the star player that got all the cheerleaders.”

“Hmmm,” Derek says, tilting his head a bit.

“Hah! I knew it!” Stiles calls out, pointing at him, “And everyone wanted to wear your jacket, I’m sure!”

“Okay, okay, I might have been one of the better players,” Derek admits, reluctantly. He’s sure his cheeks are already heating up. “But I wasn’t much of a lady killer back then. I had one serious girlfriend for most of my senior year, until…” Derek shakes his head.

“Until what?” Stiles asks, curious, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup, as if he’s warming them up on it.

“Well, until I realized that I might also be into guys,” Derek shrugs, looking at Stiles’ reaction out of the corner of his eye. “I really liked Paige, but I just couldn’t shake that feeling, you know? Once I admitted it to myself, that is. I just… I needed to know what it would be like…”

“You wanted the D,” Stiles says, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

Derek snorts. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“And I’m guessing your girlfriend wasn’t exactly happy with loaning you out to some dude so you could experiment?” Stiles says.

“Oh man, in high school?” Derek shakes his head, “I was too much of a chicken to even suggest that. And I mean, that would’ve been totally unfair to her. I didn’t want to hurt her, I really did care about her.”

“So what did you do?” Stiles asks.

“I broke up with her. I tried to minimize the heartache, but...” Derek says, and he still feels like a bit of an ass for that, even though he knows that Paige most definitely moved on and got married and had a kid in the meantime. “And then proceeded to not have the guts to ask out any guy for about another year.”

Stiles snorts into his coffee. “Smooth.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Derek says, but he’s smiling too.

“I’m assuming that you got the D eventually, though?” Stiles asks, in jest.

“You’re such a romantic,” Derek says, rolling his eyes, his cheeks flushed. “But yeah, I did.”

“Hallelujah!” Stiles winks at him.

“That was kinda my thought exactly,” Derek grins, cheekily.

“Niiiiice,” Stiles smiles, approvingly.

 

***

 

“ _I’ve been living with a shadow overhead_ ,” Derek sings in front of Danny, the doorman, because Stiles has somehow convinced him that trying out the lyrics and melody on an objective outsider would be a good thing. It doesn’t really help Derek with the feeling that he’s an idiot, standing here in the lobby of his apartment building, singing in front of Danny, who’s clearly only smiling out of politeness. “ _I’ve been sleeping with a clown above my bed…_ ”

“Clown?” Stiles interjects, shaking his head.

“That wasn’t it, right?” Derek says, squinting down at Stiles’ scribbles on the notepad.

“Cloud!” Stiles clarifies, “‘I’ve been sleeping with a cloud above my bed.’ Why would you sleep with a clown in your bed? No, wait, don’t tell me!”

“You’re sick,” Derek shakes his head, “And you need to write more clearly. How could I possibly make out ‘cloud’ from that scribble of letters?”

“Because it makes sense!” Stiles counters, writing the word “cloud” in capital letters above the scribbling anyway.

“Sorry, Danny,” Derek says, as he nudges Stiles into the direction of the elevators again, “We shouldn’t have put you through this.”

“‘s okay,” Danny says, with an amused smile on his face.

“I’ll dictate and you write, how’s that?” Stiles asks as they’re making their way back upstairs.

Once they’re back into Derek’s apartment, Stiles heads for the comfy chair and starts pulling it closer to the piano, bumping against the coffee table and almost dropping the water bottle that is standing on it.

“What are you doing, trying to destroy my apartment?” Derek asks.

“I can’t write when I’m sitting that far away,” Stiles explains, moving the chair with the grace of a pack of elephants.

“I can’t write music this way!” Derek exclaims, looking at the way he’s being pushed into the corner, “I’ve got no way out from behind the piano that way.”

“Well, then let’s switch it up,” Stiles says, already moving the chair again, “You move the piano towards the middle of the room, and I’ll place the chair right here next to it. That way I’m closer but you don’t get claustrophobic.”

“You’re insane,” Derek sighs, but he does as Stiles says anyway, because he’s got a feeling things will go more smoothly if he just gives Stiles what he wants from time to time. That thought should bother him, but Derek kind of learns that keeping Stiles happy in turn makes him somewhat more… pleased.

Once they’re both positioned the right way, Derek starts playing a jaunty upbeat tune, and it makes Stiles laugh.

 

***

 

“I don’t think those chords are right,” Stiles calls out from where he’s getting them coffee in the kitchen. “They have to be different from the verse.”

“Different how?” Derek asks, even though he thinks the chords sound just right.

“I don’t know, _sadder_ ,” Stiles says, then he sighs, “And I still don’t like my line about ‘places in my mind’...”

“Stiles, it’s fine,” Derek says as he makes his way into the kitchen as well.

“Fine is not good enough, Derek!” Stiles says, pouring them both a large cup of coffee.

“Yeah, well, normally I’d agree, but in this case we only have time for fine,” Derek says, speaking realistically. “But tell you what, you will keep the line about ‘places in my mind’ if I can keep the chord sequence into the bridge.”

Stiles look at him incredulous as he spills some coffee on the counter. “This isn’t a negotiation!” He calls out, indignant, “And even if it was, that would be you winning on both accounts! You’re not giving any concessions.”

Derek smirks. “I kinda hoped you were too tired to notice that one.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a jerk,” Stiles says, putting the coffee pot down before slapping Derek on the arm.

“You were having that lost-in-thoughts look about you, combined with the ruffled hair,” Derek grins, not really bothering to step away from Stiles, “I thought I’d pretty much got you to agree without you realizing.”

“You sneaky…” Stiles starts, poking his finger into Derek’s side, making Derek twitch and yelp ever so slightly.

“Don’t,” Derek says, twisting his hips away from Stiles.

“I didn’t even know you had it in you,” Stiles mutters, poking him once more for good measure.

“What? Cheating?” Derek asks, grabbing his cup of coffee. He holds up the cup as a way of defense when Stiles makes an aborted move towards him again.

“No. A fun side,” Stiles says with a grin as he heads back towards the living room.

Derek watches him walk away with a smile.

 

***

 

“We are losing time this way!” Derek calls out towards the bathroom, scratching his forehead.

“As if me falling asleep isn’t losing time?!” Stiles yells back as Derek hears the shower turn off.

Derek grumbles something under his breath that Stiles can’t possibly hear, because he knows that Stiles has a point. Even though it was ridiculously cute to see Stiles fall asleep almost mid-sentence on his couch, they really don’t have any time to waste.

“Besides, taking a cold shower is the best way to get me awake and focused again,” Stiles says as the bathroom door opens and Stiles steps out with a towel wrapped around his waist, dripping water all over Derek’s floorboards.

And Derek would probably be mad about it if he wasn’t so focused on the beads of water that are trickling down Stiles’ remarkably toned pecs. Stiles is definitely hiding away his nice body underneath those layers of fabric all the time. It’s a shame, really.

“You could probably use a cold shower yourself,” Stiles goes on, and Derek misses his casual tone because he’s too busy choking on his own words because surely he wasn’t staring _that_ hard at Stiles? Oh Lord, he’s probably embarrassing himself, practically drooling all over Stiles all of a sudden.

“I, uh,” Derek stammers, his face heating up.

“I mean, I bet you’re practically falling asleep too,” Stiles goes on, relaxed, running his fingers through his wet hair, “I’m telling you, a cold shower will do the trick.”

Then he turns on his heels and goes back into the bathroom, probably to dry off further and put on his clothes again.

Derek lets out a deep breath, trying to will his heart to slow down.

What the hell just happened?

 

***

 

After Stiles killing a few of his plants by overwatering them as he rambles on about the meaning of his lyrics, and trying out the new parts on Danny the doorman again, who then at the end of it admits that he is tone deaf, they are finally pretty much done with the song.

Derek starts recording the musical parts in the home studio that he luckily didn’t have to give up on after his solo album bombed, while Stiles puts a few finishing touches on the lyrics. Derek knows that they’re cutting it short, since Allison is leaving to record a tv-show back in LA in only an hour or two. And they need to get the demo to her before she leaves or they’ll take one of the other versions, as Lydia has made it quite clear.

Derek is busy recording the synthesizer bit when Stiles all but pushes up to him with his notepad clutched in his hand. He can barely hear what he’s saying over the music in his headphones, but he can hear Stiles say something about ‘corners’ being so much better than ‘spaces’, about it having a better something - he didn’t quite catch that one - about it. Derek just stares at him as he keeps touching the keys on the synthesizer, knowing that they really have no time to lose.

“Should I talk to you about this later?” Derek can make out from the formation of Stiles’ lips.

Derek just looks at him, focusing on his music as he gives no reply. He can see Stiles mouth ‘okay’ before he leaves again.

When the music is all done, Derek can’t help but be a little bit proud of themselves when he lets Stiles have a listen.

“Oh my God,” Stiles says, listening in awe, “It sounds so good!”

He’s practically beaming, smiling from ear to ear.

“It does,” Derek admits, and then he hands Stiles a set of headphones and gets out the microphone. Stiles’ face falls immediately, taking a step back from it as if it personally offended him somehow.

“What is that supposed to be?” Stiles asks, pointing at the mic as he’s holding the headphones loosely in his hand.

“A microphone,” Derek says, putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and gently pushing him back towards the mic. “For it to work, you have to sing into it, you know?”

“Wait, I can’t sing!” Stiles calls out, alarmed, “Since when am I supposed to record this song? I thought you were gonna!”

“I’m gonna sing my part, yes,” Derek says, calmly, “But it’s a duet for a man and a woman, and we’re pretty much as close as we’ve got.”

“So I have to be the woman?” Stiles asks, confused.

“It wouldn’t make sense for me to sing Allison’s part, since I’ve got my own part to sing, Stiles,” Derek says, putting the headphones onto Stiles’ head. “They look good on you.” Derek says matter-of-factly.

“As if flattery is going to help convince me,” Stiles scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“That’s not…” Derek trails off, because that really wasn’t what he was doing. He was just commenting on what he saw. “Listen, we really don’t have much of a choice here. I can’t hire a singer to do it on such short notice. Allison leaves in roughly an hour. Please?”

Stiles looks like he’s thinking it over, clearly a bit frightened. “Okay,” he finally sighs, taking his notepad in front of him and clearing his throat.

The first attempt, Stiles sings so quietly not even dogs could understand it, but the second try goes a little bit better. Stiles is no professional singer, that’s clear, but he can definitely carry a tune, and he’s got a nice warmth to his voice. By the time they get to the chorus where they both have to sing together, Stiles is actually smiling, his eyes big and sparkling, and Derek has a good feeling about this take.

“ _All I wanna do is a find a way back into love…_ ” They both sing, not real need to look down at the lyrics on the notepad anymore. They know it by heart now. “ _I can’t make it through without a way back into love._ ”

They do a couple of takes, find the best one to give to Allison, and then rush out to grab a taxi to make it over to the helicopter launch pad where Allison is leaving from. Lydia texted them the location, told them not to be late or they would simply leave without the song.

Derek has no doubt in his mind that that is exactly what they would do though, so he lets out a breath of relief when their taxi arrives and the helicopter is still there, flanked by a couple of limousines. Allison’s bodyguard - Isaac, Derek has learned in the meantime - steps out and opens the limousine door for Allison and Lydia to emerge, and Stiles gasps loudly as he sees Allison.

“Oh my God, that’s really her,” he mutters at Derek, like it only just occurred to him that the song they’ve been writing was for the actual Allison.

“Derek,” Lydia says, and she seems somewhat pleased to see them.

“Lydia, Allison,” Derek says, “May I introduce you to Stiles, my lyricist.”

“Aspiring lyricist!” Stiles adds quickly.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Allison smiles sweetly at the both of them, “Lydia tells me you have a song for me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, handing her the mp3 player he’s been clutching in his hand. “It’s just a rough version, of course, recorded in my home studio. Stiles here sang your part.”

Allison’s already putting the earphones into her ears.

“Oh my God, you’re gonna listen to it now?” Stiles mutters, his face going pale.

But Allison doesn’t reply, she just presses play on the device and starts listening with her eyes closed. It’s silent for a few seconds, until Stiles whispers at Derek, “She’s gonna hear my voice, it’s gonna ruin the whole thing.”

“Don’t worry,” Derek says, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder blade. “It’s gonna be fine.” Because it’s easier to say then the truth, which is that he’s scared as hell too. This could be his chance, his way back. He’s actually quite proud of what they wrote here, but if Allison doesn’t like it… if she rejects them, then it might be all over, and the disappointment will be big.

It seems like an eternity and Allison’s face reveals absolutely nothing. Derek can feel Stiles almost vibrating out of his skin with worry right next to him. Lydia and Isaac are just watching Allison as well, and nobody’s saying a word. The tension is palpable, and the helicopter propeller slowly starts turning behind them. And then finally Allison removes the earphones and says, “This is it, the song I’ve been looking for.”

“Oh my God! Hell yes!” Stiles cries out, as Derek lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Stiles fistpumps in the air as Allison adds, “I can’t wait to work on it.

Even Lydia looks approvingly, and then Isaac starts ushering Allison towards the helicopter.

“We’re looking forward to working with you,” Lydia says, as she shakes Stiles and Derek’s hands, to seal the deal. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” Derek says, and then Lydia is off as well, following Allison, Isaac, and a couple of other people Derek doesn’t know into the helicopter.

The helicopter hasn’t even fully taken off when Derek finds himself with Stiles bouncing into his arms.

“We did it, we did it!” Stiles screams into his ear, but Derek doesn’t mind, because Stiles’ arms are around his neck and he’s clinging on for dear life, and Derek… Derek likes it. He likes the way Stiles fits into his arms, the way he’s yelling into his ear over the sound of the helicopter leaving, the way he jumps and fully trusts Derek to hold him up.

Derek tightens his arms a little bit more around Stiles’ waist and just enjoys the moment.

 

***

 

Erica calls on the way back to Derek’s apartment, freaks out about the good news, and invites Derek and Stiles for dinner in a nice restaurant, to celebrate with her and Boyd.

They’ve been up for over twenty-four hours, but somehow Stiles convinces Derek to accept Erica’s invitation, regardless of the fact that they look like… well, they haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. Derek is starving, so convincing him might not have been too hard, and that’s  how they find themselves at a table of four, raising their champagne glasses to today’s success.

“To Stiles Stilinski!” Erica says, enthusiastically, “The man that saved Derek’s career!”

“It wasn’t completely dead yet,” Derek mutters, but he clinks his glass against the others anyway.

“And I am not exactly saving anything,” Stiles says, humble. “I mean, I just helped out with some lyrics…”

“Hey, hey, the two of you wrote a song together,” Erica beams, proudly.

“That’s nothing to look down upon,” Boyd confirms.

“Well, if you put it that way…” Stiles smiles, his cheeks flushed and his hair still tousled. He looks happy and proud, and Derek likes it.

“Definitely reason to celebrate,” Erica smiles, taking a swing of her glass.  

“The real reason to celebrate is that Erica’s picking up the tab,” Derek jokes, shooting a smile at Erica, and both Boyd and Stiles laugh. Erica gives him a dead glare, but he’s used to those by now.

“So Boyd,” Stiles asks, “Are you in the music industry as well, like these two here?”

“I’m a high school football coach,” Boyd says.

“Oh, that must be fun,” Stiles nods.

“It is,” Boyd says, “It’s pretty rewarding, actually. I try to make sure every kid gets a fair chance, you know?”

“Oh my God,” Stiles suddenly gasps, hiding his face behind his hands as he goes completely rigid.

“What?” Derek asks worried, as Boyd stops talking abruptly, looking around.

“Oh my God,” Stiles says, twisting in his seat like he’s trying to find a way to hide. Then he whispers at Derek, “That’s Theo Raeken.”

Derek’s head shoots up, at the group of people that have just entered the restaurant and are heading towards the bar. One of them does look suspiciously like the man on the display in the bookstore window.

“Theo?” Derek asks, surprised.

“Shush!” Stiles says in a panic, “He’ll hear you!” And then he’s up off his seat and is sneaking past tables in the direction of the bathroom, with the grace and elegance of a drunken bulldog.  

“What just happened?” Erica asks Derek, bewildered.

“Uhm…” Derek says, feeling sorry for Stiles. “I’m not sure.”

“You should probably go after him, no?” Erica suggests, looking over her shoulder in the direction Stiles ran off to.

“I…” Derek stammers, because what can he do, really? It’s not like he can kick Theo out of the restaurant for Stiles.

“ _Go_ , man!” Boyd chimes in, and Derek sighs as he gets up off the table and heads for the tiny hallway where the bathrooms are.

He leans against the men’s room door and calls out, “Stiles? Are you okay?”

“He’s at the bar,” Stiles’ voice comes from the door next to it, the ladies’ room.

“Why are you in the ladies’ bathroom?” Derek frowns, turning to talk to the right door.

“Because the men’s was occupied,” Stiles says, sadly.

“Right…” Derek mutters, not quite sure what to say.

“I’m just gonna stay in here until he leaves, okay?” Stiles calls out from inside the bathroom. “Just… let me know when he’s gone or something.”

“That’s ridiculous, Stiles,” Derek says, trying not to sound too harsh. “He hasn’t even started his dinner yet! He could be here for hours. And I know Erica, she’s gonna need to use the bathroom if she finishes that bottle of champagne without us. And don’t think she wouldn’t.”

“I know, I just… I wish I could just confront him or something,” Stiles mutters from behind the door, “I have this whole speech prepared and everything.” And then the door opens slightly and Stiles sticks his head out. “I would tell him how… how the literary character he’s created might only live on paper, but that I live in the real world, and that I can never forgive him for using me as raw material to create a fictional monster. And that one day, when he’s done selling lies, and age has robbed him of his talent and his good looks, all the success won’t be able to shield him from the pain he’s caused, and from the shame that he so truly deserves. Or… something like that.” Stiles’ shoulders slump. “But I can’t actually say that to him because I can’t even look him in the eye!”

“You should, though,” Derek says, coaxing Stiles out into the hallway, “I mean, you say you wish you could confront him? If you really mean that, now could be your chance to tell him how you feel? This is the perfect opportunity! You just wrote a song for the biggest pop sensation of the year, you’re on top of the world! This is the perfect time!”

“And I look like a slob!” Stiles calls out, retreating back into the bathroom.

“Oh hell…” Derek says as he follows Stiles in and closes the door behind him.

“Look at me!” Stiles calls out, staring at himself in the mirror, “My hair is a mess, I got bags under my eyes and my shirt is all wrinkly!”

“That doesn’t matter. You look great!” Derek says, and he means it, regardless of whether Stiles believes him or not. “And I think you need to do this so you can get it off your chest, so you can get over this asshole and move on with your life.”

“But Derek…” Stiles says, pointing at his reflection in the mirror, “I _can’t_!”

“Okay, wait,” Derek says, grabbing the door handle. “Stay here.”

And two minutes later he’s back with the jacket that he left on his chair, and with Erica.

“This is to cover your wrinkled shirt,” Derek says as he hands Stiles his jacket, “It should fit you. And Erica…”

“I just need some water, some hair gel, and a comb, and I can fix your hair,” Erica says, full of confidence as she holds up her purse, “And I’ve got some day cream in here as well, to spruce up your face a bit. Just give me five minutes.”

Stiles still doesn’t look convinced, but Erica’s already sprinkling some water on his hair as Derek slips out to wait for them in the hallway. When they come out, Stiles’ hair look immaculate, his face looks soft like a baby’s bottom, and Derek’s jacket fits him beautifully.

“Do I look okay?” Stiles asks, visibly nervous.

“You look perfect,” Derek says without even thinking, and Erica gives him a grin.

“Thank you so much, Erica,” Stiles says.

“Magic hands,” Erica just says smugly, wriggling her fingers before tilting her head up as she strides back towards the table where Boyd is still sitting.

“Ready?” Derek asks.

“Nope,” Stiles says, but he walks over the bar anyway, where Theo is currently entertaining his company with an anecdote that makes them all laugh. Derek is willing to bet they’re fake laughs though.

Stiles clears his throat when he’s standing behind Theo, and when Theo turns around, the realization dawns on him slowly.

“Stiles?” Theo asks, his face turning into a big smile as he goes in for a hug.

Stiles just stands there, awkwardly, as Theo puts his arms around him quickly, and Derek resists the urge to punch him in the face.

“How are you?” Theo asks, enthusiastically, and Derek can tell that Stiles has completely lost the courage to speak up to him. Theo’re friendly behavior throwing him for a loop.

“‘m okay,” Stiles nods, dumbstruck.

“It’s so good to see you,” Theo says, his voice all slimy.

“Derek Hale,” Derek says as he sticks his hand out to Theo, when he sees that Stiles is isn’t responding.

“Theo Raeken,” Theo says, a weasley smile on his face. Okay, maybe Theo is being quite friendly to the unsuspecting eye, but Derek knows better.

“It’s been ages,” Theo turns his attention to Stiles again, “You look fantastic.”

Stiles just squeaks out a tiny sound as Theo blatantly gives him a once-over.

“You were always devilishly seductive, weren’t you?” Theo winks.

“Stiles is writing a song for Allison Argent,” Derek interjects, in an attempt to save Stiles with some impressive news.

“You did?” Theo frowns, “You’re a songwriter?” And he somehow makes it sound… beneath him.

“I uh… I wrote…” Stiles starts, stammering.

“Brilliant lyrics,” Derek nods, full of confidence. “It’s gonna be a huge hit, actually.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, turning to Derek with a terrified look on his face.

“Theo, the thing is,” Derek says, because someone has got to get Stiles’ words out, “Even though the character that you wrote only lives on paper, Stiles lives in the real world. And he can never - ”

“Mister Raeken,” The Maitre D of the restaurant interrupts rudely, “Your table is ready.”

“Oh great, thank you,” Theo says with an exuberant smile, then turns towards the rest of his company, “Go ahead, I’ll be right there.” He addresses Stiles and Derek again, “Listen, I wish I could stay and chat but they’re throwing me a little party. We have a little celebration here.”

“Oh, really?” Stiles asks, sheepishly.

“Yeah, they absolutely wanted to put me in the spotlight,” Theo says, rolling his eyes exaggerated, like he doesn’t love every second of the attention, “Now that Hollywood’s come a-calling.”

“Hollywood?” Stiles says, breathlessly.

“They’re turning my book into a movie,” Theo shows off, “I wrote the script, we’re interviewing actors, the whole works!”

Stiles just grins as he nods, a fake grin if Derek ever saw one, but he’s not saying any of the things he planned to say and it’s killing Derek a little bit inside.

“So listen, I gotta go,” Theo says, faux-modest, “They’re waiting for me. But it was great to see you again, Stiles. We should catch up soon.” And then Theo pulls him into another one-sided awkward hug. “Take care, Eric,” Theo says to Derek before he’s off towards his table.

Stiles’ shoulders deflate the second Theo is gone, and he mutters, “Oh God,” under his breath.

“That didn’t go exactly as planned,” Derek says sympathetically.

“I just wanna leave,” Stiles sighs, disappointed.

“Okay, wait…” Derek says, looking back towards Theo’s table. “Wait just one second.”

He goes over to Theo’s table and Theo excuses himself from his company for a second when Derek taps him on the shoulder.

“Listen,” Derek says, “I’m sorry to bother you, but if you would just let Stiles say what he wanted to say…”

“I know what he came to say,” Theo says, the fake smiles and enthusiasm from earlier gone, “Some sob story about how I ruined his life? Well, the truth is…” He leans a little closer to Derek, “He seduced me so that I would get him published.”

“Oh come on,” Derek says, shaking his head, not believing a single words of it. “You were engaged and you never even told him.”

“We’re done talking here, buddy,” Theo says as he pats Derek on the shoulder patronizingly before sitting down again.

Derek looks back over at Stiles, who is waving for him to come and leave, but Derek just doesn’t want to leave it like that. He wants Stiles to get his closure, to be able to speak his mind. So he leans back over to Theo again, who gets up with an annoyed sigh.

“Listen pal, can you just get the hell out of here?” Theo says, a grim expression on his face.

“No, I don’t think that I will,” Derek says, “You see - ”

“Just leave me the fuck alone,” Theo bites through his teeth, pushing Derek in the chest.

“Yeah, no, that’s not gonna…” Derek says, shoving Theo back.

But then Theo is coming back a little bit more forcefully, and they start struggling. The whole restaurant gasps, and Derek gets a shiner to the face before he can reciprocate. And then Boyd and Stiles are pulling them both apart.

Maybe that wasn’t the smartest move Derek made after all, but at least he got a punch in, and Theo didn’t deserve any less.

 

***

 

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks for the millionth time as they arrive back at Derek’s place, and Derek can’t remember a time in the last few days when he got home and wasn’t accompanied by Stiles.

“Not sure how I can answer any differently than the last twenty times you’ve asked me, but yes,” Derek says. It’s mostly his pride that’s hurt anyway, besides maybe his cheekbone that’s bound to form a nasty bruise from where Theo popped him one.

“You should put some ice on that,” Stiles says, worry audible in his voice as Derek slouches down on his couch.

“Only if it’s attached to some whiskey,” Derek replies dryly.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do that!” Stiles says, his voice full of accusation. He starts rummaging through the freezer. “I looked like an idiot! Now I’m even more of a joke to him than I already was.”

Derek sighs. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, clearly. He didn’t mean to make things worse for Stiles, but somehow he did. He’s an asshole, and he doesn’t even understand why Stiles is still here. Why he didn’t leave his sorry ass at the restaurant.

“And the worst part is,” Stiles says, defeated, as he comes back with an ice pack in hand, “He still has some sort of power over me. I still care what he thinks.”

Those words hurt more to Derek than the punch in the face did, and he just can’t understand it.

“I’m sorry, but _why_?” Derek asks, genuine, “The guy is a complete, pompous asshole. It’s ridiculous! He’s like a caricature of himself.”

“Well…” Stiles mutters, pensive, like he can’t entirely disagree with Derek.

“And besides,” Derek says, his eyes cast to the floor because he really can’t look Stiles in the eye when he admits this, “I think you’re way too talented and gifted and special to let anyone keep you from doing exactly what you want to do.”

“That’s… actually really sweet,” Stiles says, a soft smile appearing on his face as he stares at Derek.

“I have my moments,” Derek shrugs, a little embarrassed, glancing over at Stiles.

Stiles takes a few steps towards Derek, kneels down in front of him as he places the ice pack gently to the right side of Derek’s face.

“Listen…” he says, his eyes locking with Derek’s, “You were amazing tonight.”

Derek wants to whisper a thank you but he’s not entirely sure he trust his voice right now, what with Stiles being so close.

“Is this helping?” Stiles asks, gently.

“It would if it was on the right side…” Derek admits, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Oh God…” Stiles whispers, smiling, and he changes the ice pack to the actual side of the bruise.

It only stays on for a second, because then Derek can’t stand it anymore, and he inches closer to Stiles, slowly, to give him enough time to back away if he wants to. But Stiles doesn’t back away, instead he closes the gap between them and locks his lips over Derek’s. The kiss starts out soft, tentative, like they’re both giving the other a way out. But Derek doesn’t want a way out, he only wants to come closer, wants to hold Stiles tight and show him what he’s worth. Make him forget all about the douchebag Theo and the hold that he has over Stiles.

Stiles’ lips are perfect, soft and pleasantly demanding, and Derek can’t get enough of it. The kiss was a long time coming, now that Derek thinks about it, even though they’ve only know each other for such a short amount of time, which sounds crazy. But it makes sense to Derek.

The ice pack lies somewhere on the floor, forgotten, but Stiles’ hands are still a bit cold when they come up to cup Derek’s face, making Derek flinch just the tiniest bit. Stiles pulls back instantly, looking at Derek with worry in his eyes.

“Cold,” Derek clarifies, then smiles reassuringly, “Your hands.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, the smile reappearing on his face as the realization sets in and the worry seeps out of him.

“‘s okay,” Derek says, taking Stiles’ chilly hands in his, “I’m sure I can warm them up.”

“Smooth,” Stiles says, but Derek cuts him off with another kiss, one that Stiles is all too happy to respond to.

Stiles nudges Derek’s lips open with his tongue and Derek leans back a bit on the couch, pulling Stiles with him. Stiles straddles him, knees on either side of Derek as he grinds down his hips, creating a delicious friction that has Derek gasping in Stiles’ mouth. The heat that fills Derek in the pit of his stomach is something he hasn’t felt in a long time, something he desperately needed from Stiles.

Derek glides his hands inside the jacket that Stiles is still wearing, _his_ jacket, and slides it over Stiles shoulders.

“Warmed up enough?” Stiles breathes out against Derek’s jaw line, dropping kisses and scraping his teeth against the stubble just right as he runs his hands under Derek’s shirt, warm fingertips exploring the skin he finds there.

“I don’t know…” Derek says, teasing, “Maybe you need to let them roam a bit more…”

A puff of warm laughter hits Derek’s skin as Stiles nuzzles his nose into Derek’s neck. “That was kinda my plan.” And then his fingers slide down, into the waistband of Derek’s jeans. “Like here maybe?” Stiles asks, his voice a little bit breathless.

Derek swallows hard, his hands coming up tighter around Stiles’ waist, his hips lifting up from the couch again, seeking contact.

“That sounds perfect,” Derek says, full of want.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, not as a question but a confirmation, before he catches Derek’s mouth in a kiss again. He slides one of his hands further down, his finger playing teasingly between Derek’s cheeks.

Derek hooks his own hands under Stiles’ shirt, tugging it up to get it off, and he mourns the loss of Stiles’ hands in the back of his pants the time it takes to get the shirt over his head, but then they’re back in an instant, warm and electrifying.

Stiles’ skin is smooth, the muscle underneath hard, and Derek lets his hands have free roam. Fingertips tracing from mole to mole, nails scraping slightly to elicit a delightful sound from Stiles’ lips. And Stiles’ hips twist a little bit, pushing down to rub his slacks against Derek’s jeans. Derek can feel that he’s not the only one that’s grown hard, Stiles is there as well, and Derek can’t decide whether it’s Stiles’ finger teasing his hole or the steady pressure against his hard dick that he finds the most delightful.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Stiles mutters, like he’s frustrated with it somehow.

“There’s an easy way to fix that,” Derek says, dropping kisses along Stiles’ jawline.

Stiles’ finger presses against Derek’s hole just then, making Derek gasp in delight. “Too few hands,” Stiles replies, cheekily, and then the tip of his finger slips in just the tiniest bit.

“Okay,” Derek breathes, “We need to go into the bedroom now.” Stiles nods as Derek swallows, “You know, clothes off and all.” Derek does his best to compose himself, before he comes right there and then.

Stiles chuckles, and as if he’s been jump started, pulls Derek’s shirt over his head in an instant. Derek’ fingers works fast to unbutton Stiles’ pants, but he tries to push them down as Stiles is fumbling with Derek’s pants, and they end up a mess of tangled limbs, stumbling off the couch. Derek puts out his hand in time so as not to fall full weight on Stiles, but Stiles is just sniggering like a madman, throwing his head back.

“So smooth,” Derek mutters to himself, even though he can’t help but laugh along.

“Off, off,” Stiles says in between giggles, tugging at Derek’s pants as he pushing them and his underwear down his hips in one fell swoop. Derek helps him out a bit by kicking off his shoes and socks.

“You have a soft carpet,” Stiles smiles as he’s laying down on the floor, Derek pulling down his pants.

“You never know when someone’s naked butt is gonna be laying on it,” Derek jokes, leaning over Stiles as he makes a trail of kisses over his stomach, down to his hip.

“Happen that often?” Stiles asks, more and more breathless the closer Derek gets to his hard cock.

“Really not,” Derek answers, honestly, and then he mouths over Stiles’ dick, delightful to find Stiles squirming underneath him already.

“Oh God,” Stiles breathes, his fingers trying to find a grip in the carpet underneath him. And then there’s a string of profanities as Derek takes Stiles’ cock into his mouth completely, applying a nice pressure to the underside with his tongue. He takes a moment to adjust, so his gag reflex doesn’t kick in, and he takes Stiles’ cock into his mouth until his nose is buried in soft curls.

Stiles groans, his hips twitching just the tiniest bit, like he’s trying to stop himself from thrusting up into Derek’s mouth. Derek lets his hands slide over Stiles’ body, over the hard planes of his stomach, his thumb coming up to flick over Stiles’ nipple as he starts moving his head up and down around the slick thickness of Stiles’ cock. He lets his tongue trace the dark vein on the underside, then coming up to circle the head.

The sounds that leave Stiles’ mouth are urgent and growing louder each time Derek sucks a little harder, drives his lips all the way down Stiles’ dick again. He hums around Stiles’ shaft, making his hips twitch.

Derek reaches down for a second, to tend to his own aching cock, a few quick tugs to hold him over, before he places his hands on Stiles’ hips, thumbs caressing the smooth skin as Stiles’ hands curl into Derek’s hair. His breathing is labored, his entire body writhing underneath Derek.

Derek’s tongue dips into the slit of Stiles’ cock, and Stiles is so far gone that he mumbles out a warning, “D-Derek… I’m there…” So Derek slides his lips over Stiles’ pulsing cock, letting it slip out of his mouth with a loud, obscene pop, and he only has to reach for it with his hand and Stiles is coming, letting out a shuddering groan as he reaches his climax. He arches off the floor a little bit, only to collapse back on it with a moan, completely spent.

“Holy fuck…” Stiles breathes out, looking up at Derek with a blissed out smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Derek says, winded, as he licks his lips, the taste of Stiles lingering on his tongue.

Stiles smiles broadly, hands reaching up to grab Derek’s waist and pull him down on top of him for a kiss.

“Now let’s take care of you,” he says with a devious grin, pushing himself up on his elbow, “Bedroom.”

“If we ever get there,” Derek lets out a puff of laughter, but they’re finally scrambling up off the floor, clothes forgotten all around them.

“So tell me,” Stiles says, his hands around Derek’s waist as he’s being guided to the bedroom, “What floats your boat?”

“I’m not difficult,” Derek says, and he gladly lets himself get pushed onto the bed by Stiles.

“No?” Stiles asks, nudging Derek’s legs apart and crawling between them, leaning over him, kissing him languidly. “But what would you like best?” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips.

Derek sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, his mind clouded with lust, and Stiles isn’t helping by basically offering him whatever he wants. But deep down he knows what he wants the most in this moment…

“I want you inside of me,” Derek breathes out, and he’s sure his cheeks are flushed and his voice unsteady, but he doesn’t care because Stiles’ face lights up, his eyes gleaming, and he nods slowly.

“Yeah…” Stiles whispers, clearly completely on board with that plan, “Fuck yeah.”

“Lube and… stuff are in the drawer,” Derek says as he nods towards the bedside table, and he reaches out his arm towards it, but Stiles is already crawling over him, grabbing the condoms and the bottle of lube like he’s on the clock.

Derek presses a kiss against Stiles’ shoulder, before nuzzling his face against the skin. It feels soft and hard at the same time, and Derek revels in the feel of it. Stiles is hard again already, Derek can tell. Stiles squeezes some of the lube on his fingers, and it doesn’t take long before he’s got two fingers up into Derek’s ass.

“Fuuuck,” Derek draws out a moan, his spine tingling with shivers at the sensation.

“You’re killing me,” Stiles says, his other hand wrapped around Derek’s hard dick.

Derek closes his eyes as he pushes his head back into the mattress, tilting his hips up to try and keep up with Stiles’ hands. His finger almost feel magical, stretching him carefully, the other hand stroking Derek cock, thumb flicking over the head. It almost feels like it’s enough to get Derek over the top, but he can still feel the gentle kisses Stiles presses into the side of his neck, can feel it when it goes over in sucking, and Derek almost can’t take it anymore. Stiles has got three fingers in him, but he needs more, he needs Stiles’ cock already, or he’s going to come before Stiles can enter him.

It’s as if Stiles could feel his impatience, because then suddenly the fingers slip out of Derek, and Stiles is hurrying to roll the condom over himself.

“Yes,” Derek groans, spreading his legs wide, “Come on.”

“You good?” Stiles asks, aligning himself over Derek, guiding his cock against Derek’s entrance.

“Can’t wait any more,” Derek says, almost desperate, and then Stiles is pushing into him, slowly, carefully, and Derek thinks he can see stars.

Stiles curls over him as he bottoms out, his arms on either side of Derek, and Derek throw his arms underneath Stiles’, clutching his back, reaching up his shoulderblades. Stiles starts to push into him, starts to build up a rhythm that Derek tries to match, and it feels _so_ good.

“That good?” Stiles asks, his voice strangled as he keeps pushing into Derek.

“God yes,” Derek breathes out, “ _Yes…_ ”

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this,” Stiles whispers, and when Derek opens his eyes he can see Stiles looking down at him, wonder all over his face. His mouth is slightly open, his lips perfectly curved and wet, the tip of his tongue darting out from time to time. He looks breathtaking.

“ _You_ ,” Derek says, and then Stiles twist his hips a little bit and he hits that spot and all Derek can do is gasp as he lift his hips off the mattress, sparks shooting through his entire body. He’s close, so close, and he wants to hold on longer, wants to make this experience last forever, but he knows it’ll be impossible. Because Stiles has obviously caught on that that is the sweet spot, so he does it again, and again, and then Derek cries out in pleasure as he spurts his release all over his chest, coming harder than he’s come in a long time.

Stiles drops his forehead on Derek’s chest as he continues to slam into him while Derek has trouble coming down.

“Oh God,” Stiles groans, “Please. Can I?” Like he needs permission of Derek to keep going even though Derek has already come.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers, when he finds his voice again, “Want you to come. C’mon…”

It doesn’t take long for Stiles to thrust a few last times, moaning loudly as his entire body stiffens and he reaches his climax.

Stiles collapses on top of Derek, and Derek keeps his arms firmly wrapped around Stiles’ body as their breathing slowly returns back to normal.

“Fuck, that was…” Stiles mutters, puffs of breath falling against Derek’s skin.

“It definitely was,” Derek says, swallowing hard.

“Hell yeah,” Stiles says, and Derek can feel his lips form a smile against his chest.

 

***

 

It’s the phone ringing on his nightstand that wakes Derek up. He groans as he blinks open his eyes, Stiles breathing softly next to him, seemingly blissfully unaware of the ringing of Derek’s phone.

Derek’s extracts himself from the bed carefully, not wanting to jostle Stiles awake.

“Hello?” he whispers into the phone, throwing another look at Stiles before he quietly makes his way into the living room, grabbing a pair of boxer shorts on the way.

“How’s my hit songwriter?” Erica’s voice rings through the phone. “Get into any more fights since last night?

“Hang on,” Derek says, stepping into his boxers and taking his pair of jeans that he left in the living room and putting them on before grabbing the phone again.

“What are you even doing?” Erica asks.

“Nothing,” Derek says, glancing back at the bedroom, where there’s still no movement from Stiles.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing. You sound weird,” Erica says, with that know-it-all voice of her, “What did you do?”

“I…” Derek says, and he doesn’t even know why he says it, “I slept with Stiles.”

“You slept with Stiles?” Erica shouts out through the phone, and Derek doesn’t even want to know where Erica is right now, because he’s sure that if there are bystanders they will have heard Erica scream. “Derek, that is fantastic! I mean, isn’t it? With you, I can never tell. You’re happy, right?”

“Yeah, I…” Derek starts, and then there’s a stumbling and a yelp from the bedroom - Derek suspect Stiles might have stubbed his toe on something - and Derek whispers into the phone, “Erica, I gotta go.”

“Don’t forget, the amusement park this afternoon,” Erica rushes out, reminding him of his show, which is probably the reason of her phone call in the first place. “I’ll come pick you up at 2, make sure you’re ready! I want you to wear the white shirt with the - ”

“Bye, Erica,” Derek says as he sees Stiles approaching, and he hangs up even though Erica’s still talking. He’s old enough to pick out his own clothes, thank you very much.

“Hi,” Stiles says, Derek’s bedsheet wrapped around him like a toga.

“Hey,” Derek smiles, and he’s amazed by how beautiful and pure Stiles looks, fresh out of bed.

“I uh…” Stiles says, letting out a puff of laughter as he looks around the living room, observing the mess of the past few days. “I’ll help clean up.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Derek says, and suddenly he’s nervous and doesn’t know what to say. Which is ridiculous, because this is Stiles. The same Stiles he has been spending the last few days with. The same Stiles who drives him crazy at times, but amazes him so much more often. Who is talented and funny, and just _gets_ Derek.

The same Stiles he had mind blowing sex with last night, and all of a sudden Derek is unsure. Unsure if Stiles even wants the same thing. Was last night just the result of days with too little sleep and an exhilarating apotheose when their song got picked by Allison, and then Derek punched that asshole Raeken for Stiles? Was it just a one time thing for Stiles? Derek has no idea, because they never actually talked about this part.

“I uh…” Derek says, and he glances at the clock. “I actually have a show this afternoon.” And he cringes at how much it must sound like an excuse to get Stiles out of there, even though that’s not at all what Derek wants.

“Oh, really?” Stiles says, but he doesn’t sound offended or hurt.

“Yeah,” Derek goes on, and adds a sarcastic tone as he continues, “And a big one even. I am headlining at Adventureland amusement park.”

“Oh, I love that place!” Stiles says excitedly, almost dropping his sheet.

“Yeah,” Derek says, and he doesn’t know why he’s nodding because he’s never actually been there, and he knows that singing at an amusement park is pretty much the lowest of the low, but it’s all he’s getting right now.

There’s a silence that falls over them, which is unusual when Stiles is around.

“Do you…” Derek starts, unsure, “Do you wanna come watch? I mean, it’ll be awful, probably, but...”

And then Stiles’ face cracks open in a smile again.

 

***

 

It’s a show in the middle of the afternoon in an amusement park, but there’s actually quite a little crowd gathered in front of Derek’s stage as he sings one of his ‘Pack’ hits. Mostly women, as usual, but they sing along and seem quite happy to be there. Behind them Derek can see the park attractions, kids and adults flailing and screaming in roller coasters and what not. Some people passing by glance at Derek’s performance for a second but they don’t seem to give him a second thought. Derek can’t really blame them.

He finishes his song and thanks the crowd, but besides the select public in front of the stage, nobody claps or cheers for him, which is to be expected. Who even goes to an amusement park to see a has-been boyband reject sing anyway?

“Whoo!” Stiles cheers enthusiastically as Derek steps off the back of the stage, behind the curtains. “That was great!”

“Really?” Derek asks, side-eying him unconvinced.

“Yeah!” Stiles says firmly, and then Erica hands him a bottle of water.

“You were great,” Erica says, “Come on, drink up, you gotta go back for the encore.”

“Oh man,” Derek sighs, “Do I really have to?” He takes a big gulp of his water.

“You have to,” Erica says, matter-of-factly, “It’s in your contract.”

“This is embarrassing,” Derek mutters between his teeth, “They don’t even want it.”

“No, it’s not!” Stiles interjects, full of life. “Derek, you don’t have to be so negative about your songs. They’re actually really good.”

Derek raises his eyebrows at Stiles.

“Okay, so I’d never actually heard many of them before,” Stiles admits, but Derek can’t really blame him for that, “But they’re fun, filled with melodic surprises. They’re catchy, and most importantly, they’re making people happy!”

“Oh, come on,” Derek shakes his head.

“No, I mean it,” Stiles says, more forcefully, “Do you have any idea how important that is? To be able to have that effect on people? ‘Sunshine on a cloudy day’, remember? Your songs are good, and they cheer people up, and you should be proud of that.”

Stiles looks like he actually means it, like he’s invested in Derek believing it too.

“Okay, well…” Derek says, because he’s never actually looked at it that way when it comes to his own songs. They might not be the most powerful or moving ones in the history of music, but the people dancing along in front of Derek’s stage actually do seem to enjoy it. They’re laughing and singing along and seem to be having a good time. And that counts for something.

Derek always thought he should be able to move people with his songs, to touch them, to inspire them. But maybe making them happy is just as important?

“You’re not just saying that because you’ve been on the Turbulence Coaster three times?” Derek asks, needing a last push.

“I mean it,” Stiles says, confident, looking Derek straight in the eyes.

“Okay,” Derek says, nodding more to himself than to anyone else. Then he looks back at Stiles. “Thank you.”

“Go get ‘em,” Stiles smiles broadly, and Derek runs back onto the stage swiftly to perform his encore balad.

The crowd immediately welcomes him back with cheers and applause, and maybe Stiles is right about this. Derek starts singing, he doesn’t have to think about the words anymore, having sung them so many times before.

Stiles makes a round around the stage, sliding in between the crowd in the back. He’s swaying along with the people next to him, smiling as he looks up at Derek. Derek looks back as he continues to sing, and Stiles holds up his cell phone, illuminated like it’s a lighter or something, and it makes Derek smile.

 

***

 

They’re in the car back and Erica drives, even though it’s Derek’s car, but he’s getting kind of used to Erica getting her way whenever she wants something.

“That was a very good show,” Erica says, as she’s keeping her eyes on the road, “I checked twitter afterwards and there were a few very good comments in the Derek Hale hashtag.”

“There’s a Derek Hale hashtag?” Derek frowns, not quite sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed.

“Oh yeah,” Stiles says, cheerfully, “I checked it out myself after I realized who you were.”

“Oh God…” Derek says, sinking a little lower into his seat.

“Most people are very impressed by your deep dark eyes and your sizzling jawline, by the way,” Stiles says wisely, “And also your smoking ass.”

Derek groans as he hides his face behind his hands. Definitely embarrassed then.

“I can’t say they’re wrong though,” Stiles adds, which makes Derek’s cheeks heat up.

“Stiles is right,” Erica jumps in, “Many a fangirl would like to go out with you for dinner, maybe something more afterwards.”

“Oh my God, dinner!” Stiles calls out all of a sudden, gasping as he leans in between Derek and Erica’s seat. “I’m supposed to go to Scott and Kira’s for dinner, I’m late! They’re gonna kill me.”

Derek looks at Stiles, sympathetically, and maybe a little bit guilty since he is the one that dragged Stiles along with him to the amusement park.

“You know…” Stiles says slyly, tilting his head at Derek, “They wouldn’t be mad that I’m late if… _sizzling jawline_ Derek Hale came along?”

Derek opens his mouth but no words come out. Social occasions aren’t really his thing, but with the way Stiles is looking at him right now, all hopeful and wide-eyed…

“Okay,” Derek says, nodding, and Stiles squeals in excitement.

“That’s fine,” Erica says, deadpan, “I’m not hungry anyway.”

 

***

 

As predicted, Scott didn’t get angry at Stiles for being late because he was too busy flailing about the fact that Derek accompanied him. His wife, Kira, seemed delighted as well, even though it’s clear that it’s Scott that’s the biggest fan in this household.

Their two young girls Samantha and Haley are adorable and outgoing, and Derek can tell that Uncle Stiles is most definitely their favorite, and the feeling seems to be mutual.

“Uncle Stiles, I can’t believe you wrote a song for Allison!” Samantha, the oldest of the two cries out at the dinner table, “I have all of her albums!”

“I do too,” Haley chirps in.

“No, you don’t,” Samantha frowns, “You borrow mine.”

“Well, I didn’t write the song alone, Sammy,” Stiles says, “Derek here wrote it with me.”

“That is so cool,” Samantha sighs dreamingly, then takes her phone out of her pocket, “Like, can I buy it on iTunes yet?”

“No phones at the dinner table,” Kira reminds Samantha, waving her fork in the girl’s direction.

Samantha groans, put upon, but she puts her phone back in her pocket anyway.

“It’s not out yet anyway, sweetie,” Stiles tells her.

“It needs to be recorded first,” Derek smiles.

“That is so cool though,” Scott says, scooping some more mashed potatoes on Derek’s plate, even though he still has a mountain of it left.

“Could we go to one of her concerts?” Samantha suddenly asks, chirpy. “She’s got one right here in New York soon!”

“Oh my God, yes!” Haley shrieks, exhilarated, “That would be so cool!”

“Kids, it might not be that easy,” Kira tries to calm them down, but Derek is fairly confident he can score some points here with Stiles’ friends.

“I’m sure we can arrange that, actually,” Derek says, turning towards Kira and Scott, “If that would be okay with you two, of course? But I’m sure Erica can get all of you tickets through Allison’s manager.”

The girls starts to cheer as Kira and Scott nod.

“Uncle Stiles, Derek is _so_ cool!” Samantha call out as she flails her fork around, bits of mashed potatoes falling off.

“I know, right?” Stiles smirks, glancing over at Derek, who can’t help the smile on his face.

His phone starts shirping in his pocket right at that moment, and he reaches for it right away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Derek says quickly, “I’ll turn it off.”

“Derek, no, that’s okay,” Scott says immediately, “Go ahead and take it.”

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, looking from Scott to Kira.

“You’re our guest,” Kira smiles friendly, “Of course!”

“I’ll be quick,” Derek says, feeling a little embarrassed about pulling out his phone at the dinner table the first time he’s been invited over. Well, technically he wasn’t even invited over, Stiles just brought him along. “Hello?”

It’s Erica, announcing that Allison will be back in town tomorrow.

“She wants us to come to her studio,” Derek tells Stiles after the phone call, “And work on the song.”

“Is that… good?” Stiles asks, his eyebrows twisting together in a slightly worried frown, “Like, what does that mean?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Derek says, cutting up the meat on his plate, “It’s probably just some minor changes.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods, turning his attention back to his plate as well.

After dinner, the girls somehow rope Derek into doing this dance battle thingie on a mat that’s connected to the television. He’s a bit reluctant at first, but then he sees the way the girls are lighting up and are giggling whenever he does a wrong move, so he figures it might not be the worst thing in the world. He even slips in some ‘Pack’ dance moves.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stiles staring at him as he’s leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen, supposedly helping out Scott as he clears off the table, but he’s not doing much besides watching Derek with a plate in his hands and smiling.

Until Haley shouts, “Uncle Stiles, it’s your turn now!” and Stiles hands over the plate to Scott before rushing into the living room to join them.

“Alright,” Stiles says, rubbing his hands, “Let’s all watch me beat Derek’s score!”

“Hah,” Derek scoffs, taking the bait because the girls are _oooooh-ing_. “Which one of us used to be in a boyband, huh?”

“Pfffffff,” Stiles says, rolling up his sleeves as he nudges Derek off the mat to take his place, “Who spent all of his late teens and early twenties dancing on the counter at the local gay bar, huh?”

The girls _ooooh_ even louder now, as Scott groans and facepalms. It doesn’t take long before all four adults and two kids are all dancing in the living room, Derek showing them the moves to ‘ _I’m a_ _Howler_ ’, one of their better known ‘Pack’ songs. Scott is a terrible dancer, Kira’s definitely got some moves, and Stiles keeps “accidentally” bumping into Derek. The girls are actually not bad dancers, but they exaggerate every movement with such gusto it’s hilarious.

Derek has to admit that he’s having fun.

At the end of the evening, when the girls have gone off to bed - much to their loud protest - Derek and Stiles say goodbye to Scott and Kira and find themselves outside on the sidewalk in front of the McCall house.

“Did you have a good time?” Stiles asks Derek, looking a bit unsure.

“I did, it was great,” Derek says, keeping to himself how Scott’s mashed potatoes were kind of… chewy.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asks, “‘cause I can imagine that this wasn’t really… your scene.”

Derek laughs. “I’m sure, it was fun. Kira and Scott are really nice, and the girls are absolutely adorable.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Stiles instantly beams, “I’m their favorite uncle, you know.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Derek says, and he really doesn’t after seeing how amazing Stiles was with those kids.

“So…” Stiles says, sticking his hands in his pockets as he sways a little bit in the chilly New York air. “Allison tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Derek says, nodding, “Allison tomorrow, 10 am, at her studio.”

“Do we… meet there?” Stiles asks, awkwardly.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Derek nods again, suddenly not entirely sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands. “But, uh… I mean, I was planning on taking a cab there. Parking is hell in that part of the city. So maybe I can come pick you up? If that’s alright?”

“You could,” Stiles says, his smile betraying the fake nonchalance with which he says it, “I could be on the street at say… nine-forty?”

“I’ll try not to drive you by,” Derek says, smirking.

“I’ll wear something bright and orange, so you can’t miss me,” Stiles grins.

“Okay,” Derek says, blinking a few times as he looks into Stiles’ eyes.

“Okay…” Stiles repeats, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

Derek wants to kiss him, wants to invite him back to his place, wants to do all kinds of things. But instead he says, “Thank you for this.” He tilts his head towards Scott’s place. “I had fun. And thank you for your support today.”

“You’re very welcome,” Stiles smiles softly, “Today was really great.”

“It was,” Derek says in agreement.

“Okay,” Stiles smiles, shaking his head slightly, like he’s amused by the awkward stalling that they’re both doing. “Bye.”

And then Stiles leans in slightly and drops a chaste kiss on Derek’s lips. It’s over before Derek can even properly close his eyes, so as Stiles pulls back again slowly, Derek chases after him and catches his lips in another kiss.

“Goodbye,” Derek says after they pull apart, his thumb caressing over Stiles’ cheek softly.

“Bye,” Stiles says, almost a whisper, and then they’re both making a few steps in opposite directions.

Stiles gives a tiny awkward wave before finally turning around and walking away from Derek.

Derek sticks his hands in his pockets and tilts his head up to inhale the crisp evening air. He smiles as he walks home.

 

***

 

“So,” Lydia says, welcoming Derek and Stiles into Allison’s studio. “Allison loves the song the two of you made for her, but she’d like to make a couple of changes.”

“Changes?” Stiles frowns.

“To make it more me,” Allison says as she joins them, “I was thinking that instead of starting it off with just the piano, it would be better to start with a good dance beat, to open with a bang, you know?”

She points towards Isaac, who presses a few buttons on a mixing table, and suddenly there’s a heavy beat filling up the room, and Allison starts singing the lyrics Stiles wrote… but not at all in the way they were meant to be sung.

“Derek…” Stiles whispers urgently as he turns towards him, panic in his eyes as his eyebrows shoot up.

“Okay, uh…” Derek says, because he hears it too, of course he does. The song is nothing like the one they wrote anymore, but it’s Allison’s song, Allison’s decisions, so what is he to do, really?

Allison stops singing abruptly, and Isaac follows suit by shutting off the music.

“What’s the matter?” Allison asks, “Do you not like it?”

“No, it’s not that,” Derek says, trying to remain professional.

“Well, actually…” Stiles starts.

“We’re just surprised, is all,” Derek rushes to say, “It’s quite different from what we wrote, you know…”

“Ally,” Lydia says, looking down at her watch, basically ignoring what Derek said, “We have a photo shoot now.”

“Okay,” Allison says, before turning back towards Derek and Stiles, “And I’d like you to add another verse. The song doesn’t really feel finished yet.”

“Another verse…” Derek says, and he can feel himself nodding. He knows they need this job.

“I’m sorry, but - ” Stiles starts again.

“And I’m having a party at my place, sort of a pre-recording thing,” Allison smiles, cutting off Stiles. “You’re both invited.”

“That’s really nice,” Stiles tries again, “But - ”

“We have to go now,” Lydia says, leaving no room for further discussion, and before Stiles can even finish his sentence, both her and Allison are off, presumably to her photo shoot.

Derek glances over at Isaac, who gives him a knowing look, and Derek groans.

“I know you, Derek,” Stiles says as they’re making their way out of the studio, “You didn’t like that version of the song any more than I did! And yet you didn’t even try to argue with her!”

“I was trying to stay professional,” Derek explains calmly.

“While she completely destroyed our song?” Stiles exclaims, insulted.

“It’s _her_ song now,” Derek tries to reason, “And no, I didn’t like it either, I like our version, but what can you do?”

“We can tell her!” Stiles argues, “We can try to reason with her! I don’t understand why you’re not passionate about this? Your heroes, your musical legends that you so look up to, they would never let this happen!”

“That’s different,” Derek says, “It’s ridiculous to compare me to them. They write masterpieces, I write… the intermission.”

“No, you are better than that,” Stiles says, poking his finger at Derek’s chest. “And that’s why I’m going to discuss this with Allison at the party.”

“Stiles, you can’t,” Derek sighs, “You don’t know how this business works, you’ve been in it for all of… six days!”

“I thought you couldn’t write this song without me!” Stiles says, indignant.

“And I couldn’t,” Derek admits, “But this isn’t about that. I know how this world works. You have to stay professional. Allison is paying us to write her a song, and it’s _her_ song. She can do with it whatever she wants, that’s just how it is.”

“But you’re gonna sing the song with her,” Stiles does let go, “How is it that you don’t want any say in this?”

“Because I have learned that sometimes you just gotta keep your mouth shut,” Derek says, antagonized, “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Stiles says, walking away from Derek as he sticks out his hand to hail a cab.

“What are you going to do?” Derek asks, walking after him.

“What I said I would do,” Stiles says, waving at a yellow taxi that’s approaching, “I’m going to the party and I’m going to explain some things to Allison.”

Derek groans. “Oh God, _Stiles_. She’s an international pop star,” Derek says, because he needs Stiles to understand this. “You don’t just tell her she’s wrong.”

“Maybe _you_ don’t,” Stiles says as the taxi comes to a halt in front of him and Stiles opens the door.

“This is a disaster…” Derek mutters, but Stiles just steps in and slams the door shut as the cab drives away.

 

***

 

“He has a point though,” Cora says, shrugging on the computer screen in front of him.

“I know he does,” Derek concedes, “But you know that’s not how it works. Stiles just… he works at a pet supply store! He doesn’t know the first thing about show business.”

“Which is what makes him honest,” Laura chimes in, from somewhere behind Cora. He can’t even see where she is.

“True,” Cora agrees, nodding, “He doesn’t think about all the blabla and the smooching and the ass-kissing of the industry. He just wants to be true to your song.”

“And believe me, I’d like nothing more than to forget all of that bullshit too,” Derek admits, “You know how much I hate it. But the reality is that if we don’t give Allison what she wants, there will simply be no song to be true to.”

Cora tilts her head from side to side, like she’s considering what Derek is saying and can’t quite contradict him.

“So this Allison…” Laura says, finally sticking her head in front of the webcam, “She seems pretty nice on tv and in interviews and such. You think there’s no way she could listen to reason?”

“She’s very friendly,” Derek admits, “Sweet and all. But you can just tell that she’s being catered to, twenty-four seven. She’s an international music sensation, and she gets her way, there’s no discussing that.”

“How do you know if you don’t try though?” Laura asks.

“Listen, I wasn’t the only one she asked to write this song for her,” Derek explains, “She had seven other people working on it, making it very clear that if our song wasn’t what she wanted, she could very easily go to any of these other people.”

“Ouch,” Cora’s face turns in a grimace.

“That’s what Stiles doesn’t seem to understand,” Derek shakes his head, “I mean, I love his excitement and his honesty about this, it’s what makes him Stiles, but he’s not experienced in any of this. I’m afraid that he’s just a little bit naive if he thinks he can just magically have Allison change her mind.”

Cora and Laura exchange a knowing look between them as Derek speaks.

“What?” Derek asks, frowning, leaning forward towards the screen.

“Nothing,” Cora brushes off, even though Derek knows her better than that. “This Stiles guy seems nice.”

“He is,” Derek says casually, hoping that the blush on his cheeks isn’t that visible through the webcam. “But he’s not listening to me right now.”

“Sounds just like what you need,” Laura says, cheekily, and Cora is already grinning like a fool.

“You two are such great help,” Derek rolls his eyes.

“Hey, what do you want us to do?” Laura shrugs, “We’re just excited you’re writing new things again!”

“I’m just hoping you’ll be the ‘ _it_ ’ guy again and you’ll get invited to lots of cool events and you’ll introduce me to all kinds of celebrities,” Cora says, clearly pleased with herself.

“So you can throw yourself at them and embarrass the hell out of me?” Derek asks, pressing his lips together.

Cora just gives him a look.

“This party,” Laura chimes in, “Maybe take a couple of selfies with some of the hot new Hollywood crowd and post them online? You could use the publicity.”

“I don’t even know if there’s gonna be anyone famous besides Allison,” Derek says.

“Oh please, a party thrown by Allison?” Laura says, “There’s gonna be leeches.”

“Does that mean I’m a leech too?” Derek asks, leaning back on his couch, resting his head back.

“You were invited by her,” Cora shakes her head, “And you’re working with her at the moment. Definitely not a leech.”

“Good to know,” Derek says with a half-smile, even though he really doesn’t care that much.

“I’m telling you though,” Laura repeats, “Selfies. Social media is where it’s at right now, Derek.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Derek says, not entirely convinced.

 

***

 

Derek finds Erica and Boyd rather quickly at Allison’s party, around the same time as he runs into Isaac.

“Hey, Derek,” Isaac smiles as he taps him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” Derek says, looking around a bit nervously, “Listen, have you seen Stiles by any chance?”

“Nope,” Isaac says, and then he’s on his way to greet other people by the door as he shoots over his shoulder, “Have a good time!”

“I would’ve thought you and Stiles were coming together?” Erica asks, a drink already in her hand.

“No,” Derek says, somewhat defeated.

“Did you screw it up already?” Boyd asks, sympathetically.

“It’s not like that,” Derek says, “We just can’t let him talk to Allison, okay? He’s gonna tell her he hates the song.”

“Wait, Stiles hates the song the two of you wrote?” Erica frowns, confused. 

 

“She hates the version Allison made of it,” Derek explains, still looking around to catch a glimpse of Stiles. “Because it got all tempo and upbeat.”

“Oh lord,” Erica sighs, scratching a perfectly manicured nail over his eyebrow.

“Behind you,” Boyd whispers, and as Derek turns around, Stiles is coming up to him.

“Stiles,” Derek says.

“I told you I’d come,” Stiles shrugs, and then Allison makes her big entrance from behind a curtain, flanked by Isaac and Lydia, as usual.

She immediately notices Stiles and Derek and walks up to them enthusiastically.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Allison says, smiling broadly.

“Allison, I actually wanted to talk to you,” Stiles says, politely.

“Yes, about the fact that unfortunately we won’t be able to stay very long,” Derek chimes in, “We still have to go finish that last verse for you, you know.”

“That’s not what I wanted to say, actually,” Stiles says, giving Derek the stinkeye that he knows he deserves.

“What is it?” Allison asks.

“Well, the thing is,” Stiles starts, and Derek knows that there’s nothing he can do to stop this, “I really appreciate the fact that you want to make the song more your style, but I do have some thoughts on that. You see, we feel like it doesn’t really fit with the integrity of the song. It’s more vulnerable, it’s about the struggle, about showing your true feelings.”

Derek can see Allison starting to frown.

“And while the self-confidence and the sensuality that you bring to your version of it works really well on other songs,” Stiles goes on, waving his hands around as he explains, “I’m not so sure that it does with this one. The beat, the dancing, it’s just not really what this song is about, what it’s meant to portray. It’s a total contradiction to the fear and insecurity of the lyrics, really.”

“I hear what you’re saying,” Allison says, and Derek can hear the “all business” in her voice, “But dancing and upbeat is mostly what I do. And it’s what the fans love and what they expect of me.”  

“I get that, but…” Stiles tries again.

“Stiles…” Derek says, shaking his head.

“I appreciate your input,” Allison says, politely, “But I like my version, and that’s how we’re going to do it.” Then she looks over their shoulders and says, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go say hi to someone.”

“But - ” Stiles tries once more, and he looks so disappointed it almost breaks Derek’s heart.

“I’m looking forward to the last verse,” Allison says by way of goodbye, and then she’s off.

Stiles’ shoulders slump, and he lets out a deep breath.

“You tried,” Derek says, trying to be supportive, “You did your best but it wasn’t meant to be.”

“And I got absolutely no help from you, Derek! What the hell?” Stiles calls out accusingly, “You just stood there and did nothing.”

“Like I said I would,” Derek counters, “I explained to you…”

“I have to go tell her how I feel,” Stiles says, looking out into the crowd to find Allison.

“You just did!” Derek says, “ _God,_ you’re stubborn.”

“And you’re not stubborn enough!” Stiles accuses, “I don’t understand why you won’t just stand up for this? This is just what you did on your solo album.”

“What?” Derek frowns, confused.

“I bought it,” Stiles admits, “That last copy from the record store we went to.”

“Well, that was a waste of money, and I told you that,” Derek says. And even though it’s actually a really nice gesture of Stiles, Derek kinda cringes inside because he couldn’t be less proud of that album. And to think that Stiles listened to it…

“It’s like you were trying so hard to get a hit that it wasn’t _you_!” Stiles says, “The songs were soulless! And I know that you can do better than that.”

Derek sighs, nodding, defeated. “But ours has soul,” he adds, because he needs Stiles to know that.

“It won’t if we let Allison ruin it!” Stiles counters, “You know that! I know you do. So why are you so scared to fight for it? To keep its integrity?”

“Because it won’t matter,” Derek says, trying to make Stiles see his point of view. “Because that’s not what a star like Allison, or heaven forbids her manager, cares about! In the end it’s all about the albums sold and seats filled and the publicity on TV! And all the niceties and invites to parties won’t make her your friend any more than it made Jackson mine! In the end, it’s all just business.”

“Wow…” Stiles mutters.

“And it’s good, because that makes everything clear,” Derek goes on, “Everything in this music world is just a business transaction, that way there’s no false promises or expectations.”

“Right…” Stiles says, the disappointment visible on his face, and Derek feels like an asshole, but it needed to be said.

 

***

 

They’ve been sitting in Derek’s living room for two hours now, and Stiles has been clicking his pen and doodling on the edges of his notepad, but he hasn’t actually written down any new lyrics yet. Derek doesn’t want to pressure him, he knows how Stiles will react to that, but Allison wants her new verse by tomorrow and the clock is ticking.

Then, all of a sudden, Stiles starts scribbling something down, gets up and places the notepad in front of Derek on the piano. It just reads, “Sorry, I can’t do this.”

“Stiles…” Derek sighs, but then Stiles is up, grabbing his jacket - actually, Derek’s jacket, that Stiles has been wearing since the other night at the restaurant - and walking towards the door. “What, you’re just gonna leave?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, deflated. “I’m sorry. Maybe… maybe I’ll think of something later?”

“Stiles, there is no later,” Derek says, strongly. “This is it. If we don’t get another verse by tomorrow, Allison will give our song to someone else. We will have lost the job.”

Stiles clutches the jacket to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe this…” Derek mutters, because he actually got his hopes up about this job, about singing the song with Allison and maybe being proud of something he did once again. He could see this as a new beginning, as a new start for him, to get out of this rut. But now it’s all going to hell, and there’s nothing he can do about it. It’s all in Stiles’ hands.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says again, “I really am. It’s not like I don’t want to help you, I do. I don’t want you to miss out on this, but I just… I can’t write when I’m feeling like this. I’m just not inspired and…”

“I don’t care,” Derek says angrily, and he knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as the words leave his mouth but he just can’t hold it in, “I just need four lines. Four lines to finish this song, please.”

“Derek, I can’t,” Stiles shakes his head.

“You can, you just won’t,” Derek says, annoyance reaching it’s peak.

“What are you saying?” Stiles asks, sorrow plastered all over his face. “You think I wanted this to happen?”

“Yes, because this is just typically you, isn’t it?” Derek says, the desperation flooding his system as he bites out the words angrily. “You push and you push and you move the furniture around and you talk all the time and you don’t actually follow through on anything, just like he said.”

“ _He_? What are you talking about?” Stiles asks, his face going pale.

“I read the book,” Derek admits, “His book, I read it. Because I wanted to to be able to come to you and say that you were nothing like the character he made you out to be, I wanted to stand up for you, defend you. But he’s got you spot on!”

“What are you saying?” Stiles asks, motionless as his eyes begin to shimmer.

“I’m saying Theo Raeken was right,” Derek yells out a little too forcefully, “You just wrote three quarters of a hit song but now you’re deliberately holding back on the last verse because you can’t get it _exactly_ the way you want it! But that’s not the way life works, Stiles. Not in the real world. But you always seem to be living in this kind of fantasy world, and then when it turns out everything doesn’t end happily, or doesn’t go exactly the way you’d envisioned it, you can’t deal with it! And you give up.”

The words hang heavy in the air as a cold silence falls over them. Derek knows that he’s gone too far, that he’s hurt Stiles - it’s visible on his face - and he wishes that he could take it back, or that at the very least he could have been more diplomatic about it. But Stiles… Stiles just gets under his skin, in the best, but apparently also the worst ways.

He’s angry at Stiles for not wanting to finish the song, for not taking it as seriously as he should be with Derek’s career hanging in the balance, but no matter how angry he is at Stiles, he never meant to cause this look of utter destruction on his face. Stiles’ face is pale, his eyes wide and shining, on the verge of tears.

Derek wants Stiles to say something, to yell at him maybe, but Stiles doesn’t say a word. He just nods, blinking his eyes rapidly before turning towards the door and slowly walking out of Derek’s apartment.

And Derek can’t help but wonder if he just walked out of Derek’s life.

 

***

 

Derek shows up at Allison’s studio with a heavy heart. He’s not entirely sure how she’ll react to not having the lyrics, but if Derek is completely honest with himself, he doesn’t care about that as much as he did last night. Because he realizes that he got so upset about the thought of losing this song, that he lost Stiles in the process. And that was far more important than the song could ever be.  

“So, uhm, Allison, about the last verse,” Derek starts when Allison approaches him.

“Yes, I got them,” Allison says with a smile on her face, “Stiles emailed them to me this morning.”

“Uh…” Derek says, utterly confused.

“They are so beautiful,” Allison goes on, clearly enchanted by this last verse, “It’s the perfect way to end the song. He did such a great job.”

Allison hands him over the music sheet and the lyrics, and Derek’s eyes go immediately to the last verse…

_‘There are moments when I don’t know if it’s real,_

_Or if anybody feels the way I feel._

_I need inspiration._

_Not just another negotiation.’_

Derek swallows hard as he looks them at the lyrics, reads them again and again.

He’s been such an idiot.

 

***

 

Derek is waiting by the counter of the pet supply store, two silly stuffed wolf plushies in hand as he slowly goes insane. Realistically, he knows that he’s only been waiting for about ten minutes, but he needs for Stiles to show up already so he can apologize, so he can at least try and make things right.

He turns towards the door right away when he hears the little bell above it ring, and watches as Stiles and Scott step in with a couple of boxes in their hands. They both stop in their tracks when they see Derek, and Scott looks at Stiles questioningly. Clearly they talked.

“Hi,” Derek says, lamely, then sticks out the wolves at Scott, “These are for the girls. I - I really didn’t know what they’d like, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. I don’t know.” He doesn’t even know why he brought them. He just wanted to do something nice to feel like less of an idiot.  

“They’ll love these, actually,” Scott nods, taking the plushies.

“I’ll be in my office…” Stiles says as he dumps the boxes on the counter and walks away.

Derek throws an apologetic look at Scott before following Stiles into the office.

“So uhm… are you coming to the concert tomorrow evening?” Derek asks, nervously, closing the door behind him.

“I promised Sam and Haley, so…” Stiles shrugs, busying himself with a folder of something or other.

“Ah, right,” Derek says, awkwardly. He swallows, before he goes on, as casual as he can muster. “I hope they’ll have a good time. Should be fun for them. I mean, they’re big Allison fans, so…”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, not meeting Derek’s eyes as he continues to browse through the folder.

“Stiles, I just want you to know that I heard the last verse, and it was amazing,” Derek says honestly, “And that I am truly sorry about what I said. I was a complete asshole to you.”

“Well, you were right,” Stiles says, his voice flat, void of emotion. “Life isn’t a fairytale, and I have to grow up. Message received.”

“I didn’t mean it that wa - ” Derek starts, feeling terrible. It’s like it’s not even Stiles that is standing in front of him.

“Sure you did, and you were right,” Stiles goes on, matter-of-factly, “So Scott and I are going to expand the store. Maybe try and open a few other branches. Invest, that kind of thing. We’ve talked about it before, but we never actually got our act together and did anything about it. But it’s time to grow up, right?”

“You should be writing,” Derek says, because this cool and collected Stiles is just not… Stiles. “I mean, expanding the store is good, but you shouldn’t give up on your talent.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind,” Stiles answers, so detached that it sends a sharp pang to Derek’s heart. He never even looks at Derek’s face.

Derek wants to argue, wants to tell Stiles that he can’t make music without him, but he realizes how selfish that sounds, so he doesn’t say anything. Besides, Derek realizes that he doesn’t only want this for himself. He’s convinced that this is Stiles’ calling. That this truly is what he wants to do. Why else would he have signed up for those writing courses before? If only that Theo Raeken hadn’t gone and messed everything up for him...

“Right…” Derek says, defeated. He ducks his head as he lets out a shaky sigh. “Well then…”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, turning his back towards Derek as he starts rearranging some books on the shelves behind his desk.

“Yeah…” Derek echoes as he silently makes his way out of the office, his heart heavy. He feels empty.

When he gets home, he starts moving the furniture back to the way it was. There’s no need for the comfy chair to be next to the piano anymore…

 

***

 

“Journalists are getting wind of your duet with Allison, Derek,” Erica says, chipper, busying herself on her tablet. “You’ve got three interviews for magazines already, and you’ve got a blurb for an entertainment show as well.”

“Okay,” Derek says, scribbling down some thoughts on a piece of paper.

“Okay?” Erica asks, a little bit affronted, “Derek, when was the last time you had an interview that was more than two lines over the phone? This is big.”

“I know, I know,” Derek looks up from his writing to smile at Erica, “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s great news. Thank you.”

He knows that Erica is doing everything she can to get him back out there, and she’s doing a good job of it too. He shouldn’t take her for granted.

“You’re welcome,” she says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. “What are you doing there anyway?”

“Just…” Derek shrugs, clicking his pen. “I don’t know. Passing the time until Allison’s ready to practice our duet.”

“Have you picked out your solo song yet?” Erica asks, swiping her finger over the screen of her tablet. Because Allison was kind enough to suggest Derek do one solo song during her concert as well, which will expose him to Allison’s audience even more.

“I don’t know…” Derek says contemplating, looking down at the lines he’s written, “Maybe.”

“M’kay,” Erica says, not really paying much attention to what Derek is saying anyway, and then her phone starts beeping and she’s walking away as she answers.

“Derek,” Isaac, Allison’s bodyguard and all round assistant, it seems, says as he comes up to him.

“Hey,” Derek says.

“Allison’s running a bit late,” Isaac tells him, “There was a problem with some of the dancers for one of her songs…” He shakes his head. “Anyway, just wanted to let you know, so you’re not left here sitting in the dark.”

“Thanks, man,” Derek nods, a bit subdued.

Isaac smiles, and moves to walk away but he stops abruptly and asks, “You okay?”

The question kind of takes Derek by surprise. He knows he’s not been smiling a whole lot, but then again, he never does. He’s kind of stunned that Isaac would notice something is wrong.

“Yeah, I…” Derek shrugs. He doesn’t want to bore Isaac with his problems.

Isaac nods, then gives him a knowing look as he says, “You know, I was kind of expecting Stiles to be here for rehearsal. I mean, I thought he’d find this kinda new and exciting.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, ducking his head. He probably would have. It would have been a unique chance for Stiles, one that Derek ruined as well. “I uh… I fucked up.”

And it seems to be enough of an invitation for Isaac to come sit down next to Derek.

“Is it the song?” Isaac asks, because he was there when Stiles tried to convince Allison to stick to the original, of course. Isaac’s never said much around Derek or Stiles, but clearly he’s more observant than Derek gave him credit for.

“The song, me, everything,” Derek admits with a sigh. “This is the first song Stiles has written, and… he just doesn’t get why Allison wants to change it. And he thinks I’m a sell-out for not pushing the matter and trying to convince her.”

“Allison’s not easy to convince of anything,” Isaac says, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” Derek says, glad Isaac understands that part at least, “And well, it’s Allison’s song. We wrote it _for_ her. But it’s not just that…” Derek shakes his head.

“I’m guessing there’s something more personal going on as well?” Isaac asks, and Derek doesn’t even know why he doesn’t just tell Isaac to fuck off with his inquiries. He’s not usually the one to open up to complete strangers, but he realizes that Isaac means well.

“Oh yeah,” Derek admits, “I was a complete asshole.”

“Ouch,” Isaac smiles, sympathetically.

“I said some things I definitely shouldn’t have said,” Derek confesses, regretfully. “I was so frustrated about the whole thing, I went about it all wrong. It’s not like I don’t get where Stiles is coming from. I put some of myself in that song too, but instead of just admitting that, I went into attack mode and basically blamed Stiles for everything.”

“That does sound like something an asshole would do,” Isaac says, deadpan.

“Gee, thanks,” Derek says, but he can’t even be mad at Isaac. He’s right, after all.

“Maybe there’s a way to make up for it though,” Isaac says, laid-back.

“You think so?” Derek asks, and he doesn’t even know why there’s a sliver of hope running through him all of a sudden.

“Talk to Allison,” Isaac advises, “Explain to her what happened, how much it means to Stiles to keep the original.”

“Stiles already tried that,” Derek shakes his head, sadly.

“Yeah, but _you_ didn’t,” Isaac says, casual, “Let me tell you something about Allison. Sure, she’s tough and fierce and knows what she wants. But deep down, she’s a hopeless romantic. ‘cause that’s what we’re talking about here, right? Between you and Stiles?”

Derek nods, sheepishly. No point in denying it anyway. Besides, Isaac might be the only one that can help him make things right.

“Explain it to her,” Isaac says again, and he seems so sure of things, “She likes you, and she likes Stiles. If she knew it could help you fix things…”

“How are you so sure about this?” Derek asks, leaning forward towards Isaac.

“Because I know Allison,” Isaac smiles, and his entire face seems to light up.

 

***

 

Before Derek knows it, it’s time for the concert. As Madison Square Garden fills up, Derek sneaks a peek from behind the curtain to the side of the stage. He tells himself he’s just checking out the crowd, not looking for anyone in particular, because it’s impossible to spot anyone in this mass of people anyway.

Then he retreats back to his changing room as Allison’s show starts, trying to compose himself as he closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind.

He’s not sure how long after that someone knocks on his changing room door and calls out a five minute warning.

Derek takes a deep breath, checks his clothes in the mirror, makes sure his hair is right, and heads towards the stage. He waits to the side, like he’s supposed to, when Allison finishes her song and addresses the public.

“Thank you, New York!” she says, bright smiles and sparkling eyes, “You are amazing!”

The crowd goes wild every time she speaks, and Derek only hopes he won’t mess up the ambiance.

“And now I’d like you to hear a new song,” Allison announces, “Something a little bit different. A song no one has heard before, written by Mister Derek Hale!”

There’s more cheers coming from the crowd, even though Derek suspects half of the audience might not even know who he is, but he marches on the stage anyway, and waves towards the people. He greets Allison with a kiss on the cheek, who then makes room for him to be in the spotlight on the stage, and he sits down behind his piano. He looks over at the crowd again, hoping to maybe spot Stiles, but it’s no use.

He realizes that Stiles doesn’t know about his solo song, so he might have been expecting their duet now. He can only imagine how pissed Stiles must be if he hears a new song announced, written by Derek alone. If he thinks that Derek is claiming their duet as his alone…

If Stiles is even in the audience, that is. He has to take the chance.

So Derek just starts playing his piano, the tune to his new song, the ballad that he wrote less than a day ago.

“ _It’s never been easy for me_ ,” he sings, and in a way he feels kind of like an idiot because not only is he not sure if Stiles is actually in the audience or not, but he knows that he’s not good at writing his own lyrics and this is supposed to be his big comeback. “ _To find words to go along with a melody..._ ” People starts swaying along with the music. “ _Since I’ve met you, my whole life has changed. It’s not just my furniture you’ve rearranged_ ,” Derek sings, knowing that the audience will not understand that line, but Stiles would, and that’s what matter. “ _I was living in the past, but somehow you’ve brought me back. And I haven’t felt like this…_ ” Derek sings on, finding his confidence as he closes up to the chorus, belting out the lyrics. “ _And while I know, based on my track record, I might not seem like the safest bet. All I’m asking you… is don’t write me off just yet._ ”

There are some cheers from the crowd, no heckling or loud interrupting talking, so Derek at least counts that part as a win. He goes on to sing the second verse, and then, when he’s near the end of it he looks out and he sees him… Stiles is standing in the middle aisle, looking up at Derek with a look of mesmeration on his face.

Derek smiles before he continues to sing, looking straight at Stiles, “ _And though I know, I’ve already blown more chances, than anyone should ever get._ ” Stiles’ eyes are glistening, his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth as he just stares at Derek. “ _All I’m asking you, is don’t write me off just yet…_ ” He lets the song fade out, and then the audience breaks out in applause, some whooping and cheering, and Derek breaks his gaze from Stiles and stands up behind his piano, turning towards the audience and taking a small bow, relief flooding his system.

He steps off the stage as Allison jumps back on, the intro of her next song already starting, and the crowd goes even wilder. Derek knows that there’s only time for one song, and then Derek is doing his duet with Allison, but afterwards… after that, he will find Stiles, and he’ll do everything he can to make it right. He promises himself.

But then Isaac is walking up to him with Stiles in tow, looking around. Isaac smiles as he spots him, then indicates to Stiles that Derek is there, before disappearing. Derek locks eyes with Stiles. He’ll thank Isaac later.

“Derek,” Stiles says as he steps closer, and he sounds breathless, “That song…”

“I know, I know,” Derek says in a rush, his cheeks flushing, “I’m not much of a lyricist, but that was the best I could do. I bet you could fix it up though.”

“No,” Stiles says, shaking his head, “That song was perfect.”

Stiles smiles and Derek feels like there’s an immense weight lifted of his shoulders, because finally he has hope again, as Stiles looks at him all expectant and full of anticipation. Derek takes a few steps closer, bringing up his hands to gently rest them against Stiles’ cheeks. The music dies down around them and the crowd erupts in cheers as Allison finishes her song, and Derek is so close, leaning in to kiss Stiles, when Allison’s voice rings through the concert hall, announcing her new single.

“Way Back Into Love,” Allison says, excitedly, “Music and lyrics by Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale.”

The soft piano sound starts ringing through the hall, and Stiles blinks as he looks at Derek, confused.

“What happened to the dancing and the beat?” Stiles asks, surprised.

Derek can’t help but grin. “Well, I uh… I didn’t give up without a fight.” He shrugs. “I explained to Allison that it would compromise the integrity of the lyrics.”

“You fought for it,” Stiles repeats, in wonder.

“And when that didn’t quite work,” Derek admits, because Allison wasn’t so easily convinced, “I explained to her that it might be the only way to make you see how much you mean to me.”

Allison starts singing her verse over on the stage, but Derek can’t tear his eyes away from Stiles.

“It turns out that she’s actually a bit of a romantic,” Derek says, “I have Isaac to thank for trying that route.”

“Oh really?” Stiles says, and he’s practically bouncing up and down.

Derek glances over at the stage, because he knows it’s soon gonna be his turn, and Stiles is telling him, “Go, go!” And even though Derek doesn’t want to leave Stiles, he knows that he has to. So he runs up the stage, microphone in hand, just in time to start singing his verse.

“ _I’ve been hiding all my hopes and dreams away. Just in case I ever need ‘em again someday_ ,” Derek starts singing, and more enthusiastic cries burst out through the audience, “ _I’ve been setting aside time, to clear a little space in the corners of my mind…_ ”

Derek turns towards Allison as they both chime in for the chorus. Their voices complement each other perfectly, and Derek can honestly say that he’s proud of this song that Stiles and him made. And he’s happy that Stiles was so stubborn about it, because as he’s standing up there on that stage, singing the song with Allison in the way it was meant to be sung, he knows that there was no other way to do it. He would’ve hated himself if he’d have let Allison change it the way she planned.

But as he’s looking at Allison’s face while she’s singing the song, Derek thinks that she knows as well that they’ve made the right decision.

Derek dares a glance over at the side of the stage, where he can see Stiles watching them, swaying with the music, an eternal smile plastered on his face.

“ _All I wanna do is find a way back into love_ ,” Derek and Allison sing together, “ _I can’t make it through without a way back into lo-oove…_ ” And then they turn towards each other, looking into each other’s eyes, because the song requires it, as they belt out, “ _And if I open my heart to you, I’m hoping you’ll show me what to do. And if you help me to start again, you know that I’ll be there for you in the e-eend…_ ”

The crowd goes wild, and they finish their song, Allison singing the last verse that Stiles has written, and that still manages to get to Derek.

Once they’re done, Allison is thanking the audience for their enthusiasm, repeating Derek and Stiles’ names as the ones that have written the song and announcing that it’ll be on her new album.

“Mister Derek Hale, ladies and gentlemen!” Allison says into her mic, as she waves her free hand at Derek.

“Thank you!” Derek says, gives Allison a quick hug, before he practically leaps off the stage.

The crowd is still cheering as the intro to Allison’s next song starts, and Derek runs straight up to Stiles and swoops him up in his arms, pulling him close to finally kiss him.

Stiles swings his arms around Derek’s neck, jumps up into his arms as he eagerly replies to the kiss, and Derek can’t even hear the music around him anymore. All there is is Stiles in his arms, Stiles’ lips against his, Stiles’ scent, Stiles’ body, Stiles… Only Stiles.

“Does that mean that you’re giving me another chance?” Derek asks when they finally break the kiss, even though he’s quite confident given Stiles’ reaction.

“Are you gonna keep writing me romantic songs like that?” Stiles asks, cheekily, his arms never leaving Derek’s neck.

“I might have reached the limit of my lyric writing capacities,” Derek admits, because as much as his song came from the heart, he knows that the lyrics weren’t going to win any prizes. Except maybe Stiles, which is more than a prize. “But I’ll write you all the melodies that you want.”

“That sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” Stiles says, grinning, “Besides, I think you might know a lyricist that can help you out anyway.”

“Yeah?” Derek asks, hopeful.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, dropping another kiss on Derek’s lips. “I think that together, we can make it work.”

“I like the sound of that,” Derek says, and he can’t help but smile.

“Music to your ears?” Stiles quips, winking.

And Derek knows that he’s far gone when even Stiles’ lame jokes make him laugh.

But he doesn’t hesitate to silence him with another kiss.

 

***

 

“Plants are looking great,” Scott winks as he looks around the apartment.

“Now that Melissa is back to watering them instead of this disaster, yes,” Derek agrees, nodding at Stiles as he takes Scott’s coat.

“Ridiculous,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head, but then the girls are attacking him with a hug.

“Uncle Stiles, uncle Stiles!” Haley squeaks, “We brought CDs for Derek to sign!”

“For everyone in our classes,” Sam adds, squeezing her arms tight around Stiles’ middle.

“Girls, maybe give Stiles some room to breathe,” Kira shakes her head in amusement.

“That’s okay,” Stiles smiles at Kira, then looks down at the girls, “Though, you know, Derek is right here. You should ask _him_ if he wants to sign them.”

The girls promptly move their attention to Derek, latching onto him as they cry out, “Dere-ek, will you please sign your CD?”

Stiles looks smug and amused, shooting a wink at Derek.

“Do I hear anything about CD-signing?” Erica’s voice rings out as she pushes at the half open front door of the apartment.

“ _Hide_ ,” Derek whispers exaggeratedly at Haley and Sam, “Before she makes you pay for each autograph.”

The girls both start giggling as Erica and Boyd step into the apartment and greet everyone.

It isn’t long before everyone’s sitting down in the living room, glasses in their hands.

“A toast,” Erica says brightly, holding her glass up in the air, “To Derek and Stiles!”

“To Derek and Stiles,” everyone chimes in, and Derek is sure that his face is turning red at all this attention, but luckily Stiles muttering, “Thank you, thank you!” in a faux-modest way as he takes bows diverts some of the attention away from him.

“For real though,” Stiles says, putting his hand on Derek’s knee and squeezing reassuringly, “Thank you for celebrating with us tonight. Derek’s first solo number one song!”

“ _Our_ first number one song,” Derek clarifies, because Stiles might not do any of the singing on the new album, but the lyrics are all his, and Derek never could have done it without him.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Erica smirks.

“Oh, hey, by the way,” Derek says as he puts down his glass, “You’ll never guess who called to congratulate me!”

“Who?” Erica asks, frowning.

“Jackson,” Derek says, and Sam and Haley immediately start gasping.

“Oh my God, Jackson _Whittemore_?” Samantha wheezes, nearly dropping her glass of orange juice.

“No way!” Erica says, seemingly just as stunned.

“It was hilarious,” Stiles snorts, leaning into Derek.

“Yep,” Derek smirks, “All of a sudden he remembered my name again, and he even suggested a duet.”

“You’re kidding me,” Erica says, her surprise turning into amusement quickly.

“What did you say?” Scott asks, intrigued.

“I kindly reminded him that he stills owes me royalties for those songs he stole,” Derek shrugs, though he has to admit that it felt good to put Jackson in his place after all this time, “And that I was moving forward, not going back to relive old ‘Pack’ days.”

“It was brutal,” Stiles laughs, excitedly.

“Good for you,” Kira nods at Derek, “He doesn’t deserve better.”

“ _Mo-om_!” Sam calls out, outraged, “That’s _Jackson Whittemore_!”

“Trust me, hon,” Stiles shakes his head, “He may be good looking and famous, but he’s a - ” Scott and Kira shoot Stiles a simultaneous glare in warning, and Stiles finishes somewhat lamely, “- poopyhead.”

Haley giggles, and Sam still looks a bit disappointed, but she doesn’t argue.

And then there’s a timer going off in the kitchen, and Derek pushes himself up off the couch.

“Excuse me,” he smiles at everyone, “Gotta make sure I don’t ruin dinner.”

“I’ll help,” Stiles says, following Derek into the kitchen.

“So you think Jackson’s good looking, huh?” Derek grins, turning off the oven as Stiles hands him a pair of oven mitts.

“Meh,” Stiles shrugs, nonchalantly, “I’m sure it’s all makeup and Photoshop.”

“Right,” Derek nods, taking a dish out of the oven and placing it on a potholder.      

“Clearly not a natural beauty like you,” Stiles smirks, waiting until the dish is safe to throw his arms around Derek.

“Good save,” Derek smiles, and eagerly accepts the kiss that Stiles gives him.

“Ewwww, uncle Stiles!” Haley calls out from where she’s standing at the kitchen door, and Derek pries one eye open to see Haley squint her nose at them, and Stiles wave her off with one arm as he continues to kiss Derek.

Haley hops back into the living room and Derek can hear Kira say, “Haley, leave those two alone!”

“But Mom, they’re _kissing_ ,” Haley hisses, like it’s the craziest thing she’s ever seen.

There’s a giggle from Sam, and some muttering from Boyd before Erica calls out, “Don’t take too long in there, you lovebirds. We’re hungry!”

And when everyone starts laughing, Derek can’t help but grin into the kiss.

 

_~The End_

 


End file.
